The Season in the Shadows
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: With most of the Jeffersonian team scattered around the world and his finance gone, Sweets grapples with making a new life for himself. Set between the season five finale and the first episode of season six. *On hiatus*
1. Farewell, part 1

Author's Note: I know that the idea for this fic is very delayed, but I was hoping that perhaps there would be some mention about what happened to Sweets in those missing seven months between the season five finale and the season six premiere in canon. Sadly, it appears that HH and Co. are not going to talk about what drove Sweets to leave his practice at the Bureau and play piano in bars during that time. Thus, I decided to write this fic which will explore what might have happened during that time.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who reads/follows/reviews this. It is always appreciated.

The Season in the Shadows

Farewell—part 1

Doctor Lance Sweets could not stop staring at the sky.

It was a bright, clear day outside with no clouds to obscure a single inch of the expansive blue that stretched out in front of him. The sun hung overhead, sending warm, but blinding rays out which made Sweets have to blink and squint in order for him to keep looking upward.

At that moment, the psychologist was standing near the windows in an airport. People were milling around him; the squeak of suitcase wheels, the clicks of shoe heels, and bored voices making announcements over the intercom were all present. But none of it really registered with the therapist as he continued to search in vain for the airplane which was presently taking its passengers on the first leg of a journey to Maluku.

When he was a child, Sweets had enjoyed watching the sky. His mind would make animals and supernatural beings out of amorphous clouds. At night, he would stare at the stars and wonder about their mysteries. The sky had symbolized freedom and endless possibilities to him.

But now all it meant to Sweets was a broken heart and an empty existence because less than a week ago the life that he had grown to love and feel secure in had been turned upside down and gutted.

His gaze still on the window, the psychologist remembered his recent lunch with Cam. She had mentioned that Brennan had been feeling less than satisfied with her work at the Medico-Legal lab of late. Sweets had not been surprised at this. He knew that Taffet's recent trial had taken a toll on her and had made her question herself and her work even though they had succeeded in putting the Gravedigger away. Sweets had been thinking about suggesting a informal meeting between him and Brennan so that they could at least touch on a couple of things that she might want to consider on her own in order to help her gain some needed perspective.

Then came their most recent case, a hoarder who had died in his apartment and then had his corpse fall through the floor to the apartment below. Sweets had witnessed the Army's attempts to lure Booth back into service. The psychologist had experienced a brief, instinctive twinge of fear and apprehension at the idea that the military might draw Booth back in, but Sweets pushed it aside. Part of him had managed to chalk up his concerns to the natural response any person would have at the thought that his friend could head off to a war zone. The rest of him simply reasoned away any lingering worries by reminding himself about all of the attachments and obligations that held the agent here like his job at the Bureau, his family and the close knit group of people he worked and spent time with almost every day.

But as the case wore on, the cracks were beginning to show in Booth's and Brennan's partnership. Both of them seemed to long for something that was missing in their personal and professional lives. Something that neither one of them were able to find in each other or in the lives that they currently had.

Sweets walked over closer to the window and was tempted to place his hand onto the glass as a way to touch the sky that was separating him from the people he loved. He had heard about the Maluku project from Angela and had not put much thought into at first other than wondering if Brennan regretted not participating in such a venture.

Nothing had prepared him for the moment that Daisy walked into his office and announced that she had been accepted to take part in said Maluku project and that she would be gone for about a year.

His first response had been confusion at how this revelation seemed to come from nowhere. Having spent plenty of time in grad school himself, Sweets knew that something like this would not have been a split second decision. There would have been applications, requests for recommendation letters, and most of all, waiting. It was the kind of thing that a person would have had to spend weeks if not months planning. Yet, despite all of that, Sweets had been shocked and surprised by the whole thing.

'_I thought I knew about Daisy and what her long-range plans were. But apparently I had no idea,' _he mused bitterly. '_Who knows what else I didn't bother to figure out about her and our relationship. What else I might have missed. Perhaps...perhaps I never really knew anything about her or what she wanted out of life.'_

As Daisy explained more about where she was going and what she was doing, all Sweets could focus on was what all of this meant for their engagement.

He thought very briefly about proposing some kind of immediate marriage arrangement, but swiftly discarded that idea. The decision to marry Daisy had been a monumentally important one to Sweets and he did not want to cheapen it with some kind of 'quickie' ceremony. Besides, it was clear that marriage was the last thing on Daisy's mind at that moment.

Instead he was faced with a choice: either stay and wait patiently for her to return or leave behind everything that he had worked for and cherished and follow her to Maluku.

Back in the terminal, Sweets clenched his hands and backed away from the window. He spotted some chairs some chairs nearby and settled into one of them, shifting his gaze from the world outside to the human traffic that was bustling all around him.

It had hurt him when the subject of their engagement had been treated in what he perceived to be a cavalier manner by Daisy. It was also a blow to his pride and his self-esteem when he realized that he had no say in whether or not she would go. He had been given a set of options and that was that. That sense of helplessness and lack of control over his fate reminded him too much of his time with his biological father and then of his time in the foster care system. During those times, his needs and feeling were rarely considered and security and happiness were ripped from him on a regular basis with no thought as to how it affected him.

The hurt quickly swallowed him up from the inside; cementing in his mind the course he would end up taking.

He had tried to escape it at first by ignoring it or pushing it aside. He focused on the case that he was working on, he tried to think of the best ways to advise Booth and Brennan on their dilemmas, and he even decided to join Hodgins on his insane quest to steal back a car as a favor to Angela's father. But none of it had been enough to ease the pain that he felt. He knew that he could not go, but that he could not wait either. There was only one path that he could see in front of him, and it meant walking away from the woman he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

The psychologist bowed his head, choosing to ignore the fact that he had not come to this airport alone and that Cam, Angela and Hodgins might be looking for him right now. As far as he was concerned, he was a non-entity to the rest of the team, and he felt that it was probably just as well that he was alone right now anyway.

He thought back to a conversation he had had with Booth a couple of days ago when he mentioned that Brennan had decided to head up the Maluku project after all, the very same Maluku project that Daisy had applied for. That was immediately followed by the agent's own announcement that he had decided to accept the Army's request to have him return for a time to help train soldiers.

Sweets had not wanted to believe any of it at the time. After all, he had believed in and invested himself in Booth's and Brennan's partnership, even going as far as trying to write an entire book about it.

Looking back on it now though, Sweets couldn't believe that he had been so willfully blind to what was happening around him. Angela had seen it. Cam had seen it. Even Caroline had seen what was coming and its inevitability.

'_Caroline was right to tell me to grow up,' _he thought darkly. '_Instead of facing reality I was holding onto some kind of fantasy. A fantasy that all was well in Brennan's and Booth's worlds. And only children cling blindly to fantasies.'_

Sweets swallowed hard. Deep down he knew that it was a mistake to attribute the decisions the two of them made about their careers and their long-term plans to anything that he did or did not do, but right now he couldn't help but think that if he had been a more attentive and thoughtful therapist that this might have been avoided.

'_Taking such a drastic step like this…walking away from lives that held so much for an entire year….There is far more at play here than mere professional malaise. But why didn't I see that earlier? What kind of a psychologist am I anyway? I couldn't see the signs that Daisy needed more than I could give her, and now I ignored my friends' issues and problems instead of trying to help them work through them.'_

The therapist slumped down in his chair. When Angela and Hodgins made their own happy announcement about leaving DC for a year-long honeymoon in Paris, the news barely penetrated the overwhelming numbness that had overtaken him. All of the upheaval and loss that he was already grappling with had made him unable to feel much of anything, but Sweets knew that it was only a matter of time before feeling nothing would give way to feeling a crushing amount of grief over all that he had lost.

Now that he had just said goodbye to Brennan and Daisy along with Booth a day earlier, the impending departure of Angela and Hodgins from his life became even more real to him somehow.

As he pondered all of this, Sweets suddenly became angry at himself.

'_Angela and Hodgins are finally together and happy, and now they are spending a year in Paris. Daisy has just received an amazing opportunity. Brennan and Booth are getting the chance to throw themselves into their work and possibly make a huge impact in their fields. I should be happy for all of them. I should be supportive. Instead, all I am thinking about is how it affects me and my life.'_

Deep down, Sweets knew why he felt anger and despair that moved beyond the expected response to their leaving. It was because he wished that they had not wanted to go.

He thought again about how excited Daisy was about the Maluku project and how it was a 'once-in-a-lifetime' event for her, and Sweets pined to have someone consider him and his love to be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for them.

He considered how most of his friends were taking off for destinations all over the globe in the pursuit of something more fulfilling than what they had now, and he wondered if he had been the only one who had been completely content with his life in DC.

'_Was it all a fraud?' _he asked himself. '_Was this ideal that I had about all of us working together and even being a family together just some kind of errant wish because I was missing Mom and Dad?...Because I still miss Mom and Dad? Was I the only person who was really happy with the way things were?'_

Sweets swiped at his eyes furiously, determined not to break down in the middle of the airport. It soon occurred to him that a large part of how he currently felt was probably his own doing. He had let himself become very attached to the people that he worked with, the people that he spent a lot of his time with. He had concentrated most of his attention and care in this small circle of people instead of branching out and building relationships elsewhere, and now he was being forced to learn just how unstable those bonds proved to be in the end.

'_I expected so much out of them…too much. But not anymore. I was stupid to cling to them like that. They were always their own people with their own lives. And how it's time that I accept that those lives don't necessarily include me.'_

"Sweets?"

The psychologist lifted his head to see Cam, Hodgins, and Angela walking toward him. He stood up and took a deep breath in order to steady his voice.

"There you are," Angela said. "We've been looking for you."

"Sorry," Sweets mumbled. "I guess I just wandered off." Angela nodded her head in what Sweets knew was meant to be understanding, and he had to resist the urge to shake his head.

'_She probably thinks that I'm just upset about Daisy,' _he told himself. '_And I am. But that is not all. There is so much more….'_

"Hey Sweets, the three of us were thinking about having lunch together," Hodgins said. "Why don't you come with us?"

Sweets hesitated. He wanted to go. Every fiber of his being begged him to go ahead and spend what time he could with the people he still cherished, but he also knew that his emotions were very fragile right now.

"Thank you, but I have a lot of work to do at the Bureau," he said, making sure to put a smile on his face. "I'm just going to grab a sandwich and work at my desk for the rest of the day. Could we have lunch tomorrow instead?"

There was a hint of disappointment on his friends' faces, but that soon passed and they made arrangements to meet up with Sweets at the Royal Diner to share a meal tomorrow before Angela and Hodgins had to finish packing for their trip.

The others then left to ride in Angela's van to the restaurant they had chosen, leaving Sweets to take his own car, the car he had just used to drive Daisy to the airport and out of his life,back to the office.

But instead of heading to the Hoover Building, Sweets ended up driving back to his apartment. Once he was there, he called his secretary and had her cancel all of his appointments for the day, saying that he would not be in. He then went into his place and changed out of his suit and into a pair of jeans and an old Columbia sweatshirt. He soon realized that he did not want to stay inside while he brooded, so he went out to wander the streets of DC.

After about two hours of walking, Sweets found a dingy, little bar on a side street and walked inside. It was sparse, non-descript, and somewhat dirtier than his usual haunt at the Founding Fathers, but right now none of that was really all that important to him.

He ordered a drink and derived a smug sense of satisfaction when the bartender did not card him. Whether he actually thought that Sweets looked old enough to drink or he just didn't care mattered little to Sweets.

Once he had his drink in his hand, the psychologist walked over to a rickety table against the back wall that was slightly sticky from old beer. There he sat down and began to drink, already making plans to order more than one refill.

Tomorrow he was going to have to begin a new life on his own, but today he was going to get drunk and let himself forget about his pain for a while.


	2. Farewell, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am running into a bit of a snag creatively these days, which is slowing down the progress of my fics. I hope to overcome it soon and update my other projects...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I hesitated for the longest time on writing this partially because I was holding out hope that the writers would address this missing time for Sweets, but sadly it never happened. There were so many issues that I had with the season five finale, and I doubt that I will ever be able to resolve them all. But I hope this fic will help some with that.

**Va32h: **Well I often think of it as a combination of inserting and building myself. :) But yes, while everyone seemed affected by the separation, I was surprised at everyone was so blase about the fact that Sweets was playing piano in bars by the time they came back. Considering how little was mentioned about it in the season six opener, I had a bad feeling that all of that would never be addressed. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy my take on what could have happened during that time.

**Rankor01: **Yeah, I finally got around to this one. :) I agree that HH and Co. underestimated how much splitting up the team impacted the feel of the show, and I do think that they seriously neglected to explain just how much all of it impacted Sweets since he lost his "family" and his fiance all in one swoop. And I also agree that Daisy did some pretty horrible things in that episode, not just to Sweets but to Brennan as well. It has been very hard for me to see her and her relationship with Sweets in a positive light ever since...The thing is, as much as Sweets was devastated and did lash out some in response to what happened, I am beginning to think that there have been other long-term, more insidious effects from what happened here that made their way into his character during the last season...I hope this fic makes some sense out of it.

**D: **Well as usual for me, I will be focusing more on what Sweets could have been doing during this time and what led to him playing piano in bars. While it's true that the writers seemed to forget about Cam after that first episode of season six, I think they ignored the great implications for what happened to Sweets even more...I assume that the Jeffersonian invited everyone else back simply because they are all considered among the best in their fields and would want to keep a team of great minds like that together, and as you pointed out for Booth, he was serving his country, so the Bureau wasn't going to fire him. But Sweets...so much has been left unexplained, including what you mentioned with him leaving and then going right back into the Bureau. I hope to give a plausible explanation for it here...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I have had this idea in my head for a while now, even when I was working on my AU collaboration with **Buttercups3**, but just never got around to writing it before now. And I am with you at being supremely irritated at how Daisy acted during this whole thing. It explains a lot about why she doesn't appear in my fics as much as she used to. :) I do think this separation had multiple effects on Sweets, which I plan to explore here. Some good, others...

Farewell—part 2

Three days later, Sweets was sitting in the Royal Diner picking at his sandwich and fries while trying to read his paper.

That day in the bar, Sweets ended up getting very drunk and dragging himself into a taxi by mid-afternoon. He then spent the rest of the evening and night either vomiting into the toilet or buried under the blankets on his bed. Thankfully, by the time the next morning arrived, the psychologist had been able to pull himself together enough so that he could go to work a couple of hours later than normal and meet up with Angela, Hodgins and Cam for the lunch that they had agreed upon the day before. It ended up being a sedate lunch for him with just a salad, a tall glass of ice water, and mostly listening to the others while they talked so that he could avoid agitating his hangover as much as possible. Still, he had been grateful for the chance to spend some time with his friends before Angela and Hodgins became too busy preparing for their trip to do much of anything else.

Sweets sighed and folded his paper up, tossing it to the side of the table when he was done. Yesterday had been a repeat of a few days ago when he watched Brennan and Daisy leave for Maluku only this time it was Angela and Hodgins leaving for Paris. The goodbyes were heartfelt on all sides, but Sweets could not deny the fact that his mind and heart were somewhere far away while he was watching them leave, making him unable to feel any emotions as strongly as he did the last time he was there.

The psychologist picked up a fry and swirled it in his serving cup of ketchup before popping it into his mouth. Cam had once again offered to share a meal and possibly a drink with him after the plane had left, but once again, Sweets declined the offer under the guise of work. After leaving the office late that evening, Sweets spent most of the night staying up and watching old movies while eating bowl after bowl of homemade stew, his mother's recipe. Sitting on his couch, wrapped up in an old blanket from his childhood home while eating a meal that he had consumed numerous times as a kid helped Sweets to re-live many happy memories. After the past few days, he craved the chance to lose himself in more pleasant thoughts and emotions, figuring that he should try to give himself some comfort since no one else was going to offer it.

Sweets had woken up this morning feeling sluggish and worn out, but had still made himself show up for work. Once he was there, he made sure to focus his brain on the reports, profiles and patients that he needed to attend to partially as a way to forget about recent events. It proved to be a successful method of getting through the day until he took some time out to have lunch. Sitting there and eating, with nothing else to occupy his thoughts, Sweets found his mind drifting back to all of the absent people in his life.

He thought again about Daisy. By now, he assumed that she was getting ready to go out to her first dig site with Brennan. In his mind's eye he could see her brown eyes lighting up with excitement and her ponytail bobbing about as she went about her tasks in her usual animated way. Ever since he had started dating her, Sweets had heard many times about how it was Daisy's dream to work closely with Brennan. He had even played a part in pursuing that dream when he asked the anthropologist to give Daisy another chance as her intern. He imagined that Daisy probably felt vindicated right now for all of her hard work and persistence.

Suddenly, Sweets thought again about the moment he had proposed to her. She had been surprised and happy, but even that didn't seem to compare to the excitement she displayed over being accepted into the Maluku project. As he considered that, Sweets was surprised to find that he was angry.

'_She didn't tell me,'_ he thought bitterly. '_That night when I proposed to her…she didn't tell me about Maluku. She had to have applied to it by then. Even if she didn't think she would get in, she had to have known that it could affect our marriage plans. Why didn't she tell me?'_

For the first time since had heard the news from Daisy about her plans, Sweets became enraged, and this time it was not over the fact that he had been blind to it but because Daisy had concealed it from him.

'_She always wants me to tell her everything. Everything that is inside of me,' _he silently fumed. '_And I thought that she had a point. After all, that's how it was between Mom and Dad…But she was the one who wasn't telling me things.'_

A sharp pain hit the therapist's heart when he thought about his parents. He remembered how they had been on his mind on the night that he decided to propose to Daisy and then it occurred to him that Daisy still had his mother's ring.

Sweets swallowed hard. Generally, he didn't believe in allowing himself to become too attached to objects, having seen how easily they could be destroyed, lost or stolen from him in some way. But he could still vividly recall the moment when his mother had given him her ring to hold onto. It had been a show of confidence that her son would find a meaningful relationship of his own and a demonstration of love because she was longing for her son to find the same sort of happiness that she had enjoyed with her husband for so many years.

The psychologist surprised himself when he felt tears sting his eyes. Even though a part of him wanted to find a way to get the ring and his connection to his mother back, Sweets knew that he could never ask Daisy for it.

'_I'm sorry Mom. I guess your plan didn't work out after all.'_

Sweets took a long sip of water to loosen his newly tight throat. Despite his initial sorrow over the situation, he was soon comforted by the thought that his mother would have been understanding no matter how things turned out with Daisy and would have never chided him for losing the ring. It made Sweets miss his parents again, but it also helped him let go of some of the anger he felt toward Daisy.

'_No matter how things turned out, our love was real,' _he told himself. '_Mom would have appreciated that even though it did fall through in the end. The love Daisy and I shared was far more important than a ring.'_

The therapist sighed and ate a couple more bites of his sandwich. A piece of his heart would always belong to Daisy. There was no use in denying it. It was not unlike the way that his parents continued to hold a place in his heart even though it had been years since they passed away. His father had told him once that love had a way of leaving its mark on people and that those marks didn't always fade even after a relationship ended. In some ways, Sweets found that to be a depressing idea. But instinctively, he was certain that it was probably for the best that his relationship with Daisy had left an impression on him even though he could not discern what the benefit was in this moment.

Sweets gulped and tried to finish off as much as he could of his meal, his appetite having waned considerably over the last week. He tried to push all thoughts of Daisy out of his brain, fully aware that even if he was successful, it did not mean an end to his distress, and he ended up thinking again about Angela and Hodgins and their romantic romp to Paris in the process.

Sweets did not want to be jealous, but right now he could not stop himself. He had never cared for this side of his personality, but it was impossible to think about them and their honeymoon plans and not compare it to what happened between him and Daisy. The only thing that kept him from becoming too upset with himself was the part of him that was still able to reason clinically which reminded him that feelings like this were natural and normal.

As he calmed down, Hodgins' advice to him along with his declaration that he would be willing to leave the Jeffersonian and follow Angela around the world came back to him.

'_Was I ever willing to do that for Daisy?' _he wondered. '_Could I be that unselfish for her? Did I…did I give up my one chance for a real and lasting love just so I could stay here where I am comfortable?'_

Sweets' stomach lurched and for a moment, he thought that he was going to be sick. He had always acknowledged the notion that committing to a relationship involved compromise and sacrifice from both partners, and he could see clearly how Hodgins was more than willing to make that sacrifice while he had been reluctant to do so. He started to question the strength in his own heart when another thought stopped him.

'_Hodgins is rich. Rich and considered one of the best in his field. If he decided to follow Angela around the world for a while, he could afford to do so. And afterwards, if he wanted to go back to the Jeffersonian, he would probably have little difficulty. Even if he decided to never return to his career, he could easily afford to re-establish himself elsewhere while still making himself able to keep ties with everyone here.'_

The therapist picked up his glass of water and took several long swallows in an effort to calm down and settle his stomach. Sweets acknowledged the fact that he was not really hurting financially himself. His parents had arranged it so that he started his career at the Bureau with no debt, and after they died, Sweets received a sizable trust fund from them. He wasn't as rich as Hodgins or even Brennan, but Sweets was financially very comfortable, especially given his modest bachelor style of living and the salary he made from his work at the FBI. Truthfully, Sweets had been reluctant to touch that money, knowing that his parents had worked their entire lives so they could give it to him.

Sweets put his nearly empty glass down and stared at the table top. He knew that with careful planning, he could live on his trust fund for a long while, but was loathe to squander it in what could be a futile gesture to keep Daisy in his life.

But more important than the money or the position that he currently held in the Bureau, Sweets longed to hold onto the sense of belonging that he had gained since living and working in DC. It was something that he had felt only one other time in his life: when he was living with his parents while growing up. That feeling of being part of a family made everything from work to grabbing a couple of beers at the Founding Fathers seem even more vibrant and fulfilling.

That was what Daisy had wanted him to walk away from so he could become a pearl diver. That was what Sweets could not give up, no matter how much he loved her.

Sadly, that was what ended up walking away from him in the end.

Sweets hastily finished up the rest of his meal and paid the bill so that he could leave. As he walked toward the car, he shifted his thoughts to Booth and Brennan and the fact that they were on opposite ends of the world.

'_Doctor Brennan would say that they weren't literally at opposite ends of the earth,' _Sweets smiled to himself. '_Booth would then remind her that it's just a saying to mean being separated by great distances. Then the bickering over semantics would begin.'_

The psychologist surprised himself by laughing even though his smile soon parted. He already missed being able to be a part of their world even if only for brief stretches of time. It was hard to explain in words, but Sweets found that he was always comforted by their presence.

Sweets slid into his car and put the key into the ignition, but hesitated to turn it. In some ways, it seemed like Booth and Brennan had always been on different planes of existence: Brennan with her devotion to the rational, the scientific, the truth and Booth with his duty to intuition, to justice and to what felt real. Even when they stood in the same room, talking directly to each other, they still managed to occupy separate worlds at times. When looking at their relationship from that angle, a physical separation like this should have seemed trivial.

But Sweets knew deep down that it wasn't trivial. Far from it. The two of them had both left presumably to gain perspective, but he worried that perspective might not be the only thing they were seeking.

'_What if whatever they are looking for is actually out there somewhere and not here? Or at the very least, they think it's out there. What if they decide that they never want to come back to their lives here?'_

Sweets trembled and gripped the steering wheel. He reminded himself that Booth still had Parker to consider and that there was little chance that he would leave his son behind for a new life any time soon. Brennan's attachment to DC seemed more tenuous on the surface, but the psychologist reasoned that Brennan would still want to work at the Jeffersonian just because it was one of the top institutions for the type of work that she was involved with. Someone like her would not be satisfied with less than the best. Plus, her brother Russ and his family were living in nearby Virginia, and Max frequently spent time there when he wasn't in DC. Sweets held out hope that the anthropologist would feel sufficient pull to return to her old position once she finished her work in Maluku.

Sweets managed to push away most of his fears out of his mind, but all of this thinking had planted a new concern into his brain.

'_Even if all of them come back…will things ever be the same? It's a whole year. A person's life can change in a moment…How much more could happen in a year?'_

The psychologist shivered as he started the car and took off down the road. He was able to keep his concentration firmly on the traffic until he arrived at the Hoover Building's parking garage. Once he was there, he parked his car, rested his head against the steering wheel and began to weep.

He wept for all the people who were gone and for the life that he had lost, but most of all, he cried because of how bleak the future looked to him. All that he could see was another empty existence, devoid of family, of intimacy, and of love. It was the existence he had lived in for several months after his parents died. This time, however, he was becoming increasingly certain that this loneliness would last much longer than it did before Booth and Brennan became his patients.

After several minutes of intense mourning, Sweets swallowed hard and wiped his eyes. He still had his work and his practice to give him purpose and direction. It was what he relied on before.

And now it would have to serve as a way to keep himself sane and whole.


	3. Month One, part 1

Author's Note: Next chapter. I will be going on a month-by-month basis for most of the rest of this fic.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I agree that Sweets' state of mind would have been heartbreaking to see around this time...and I am in complete agreement with you that it was a shame that they didn't include at least one scene with someone from Team Jeffersonian to touch on what things were like for him while everyone was away...I hope you enjoy the rest of the journey through this fic.

**Rankor01: **See that is what I thought in regard to Hodgins. It was kind of unfair to compare himself and Angela to Sweets' situation with Daisy because their lives are very different for a variety of reasons, one of which being Hodgins' great wealth...I do think he looks to B&B for inspiration for his own life much like a younger sibling looks up to an older one, but as you aptly pointed out there are dangers in that approach...I have to agree that the piano-playing Sweets might have been a convenient way to show off JFD's skills because they just did not go into the reason WHY he was doing it as much as they should have ("Rethinking my priorities"...what does that mean?). Thus, my long-standing desire to try to make some sense of it here.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for your review. The financial planning made sense to me for so many reasons, including the part here where he takes time off from the Bureau. It makes a lot of things within canon fall into place, like why he was able to live on what was sure to be a meager income. Plus, I do love to tie my stories together as much as possible. :)...As to the other, everything about how Sweets was able to overcome so much in his life makes me think that he had very wise as well as loving parents...

**D: **I was thinking the same thing. Since we know that he lost his parents right before working at the Bureau, it would make sense that he would be devastated to be put in that situation again...with no guarantees that things would go back to the way they were. I plan on doing some "speculation" as to what might have happened from Point A of the season five finale to Point B of the season six opener from here on in...much like what I did with my The Heart of the Family story. So yeah, I hope my fic makes some sense in regards to how Sweets might have ended up at that piano...

Month One—part 1

Sweets looked away from the computer screen in his office and rubbed his eyes. He had just finished up his latest report and had sent it to the agent who had asked for it a few seconds ago and had decided that his eyes needed the break.

It was late in the evening and most of the staff, including the agents, had already left the building, but Sweets planned to continue working for at least a couple of more hours. It had become a habit for him to work late these days.

The psychologist leaned back in his chair and decided to grab some coffee to help him stay awake. He snatched up his mug and headed off to the machine seconds later.

It was now two weeks after everyone except him and Cam had left DC. While he was walking along the empty hallways, Sweets considered the irony that instead of having less work as a result of that event, he was busier than ever.

At first, it wasn't that way at all. His workload had lightened considerably due to the fact that he was no longer profiling cases for the Jeffersonian or Booth alone and because he wasn't treating the agent or Brennan. Plus, he was able to spend more time at the Hoover Building due to the fact that he usually was not asked to go out into the field and had no reason to go to the lab. But after only about three days with a reduced workload, Sweets began looking for ways to fill his hours. Eventually he got his wish when he had four additional patients referred to him and when Hacker recommended him to help create a series of seminars to help junior agents in basic profiling skills that would be carried out jointly with Quantico.

The end result of all of this was numerous days spent working from morning to night in his office, often only pausing for a quick meal from the cafeteria once in a while. Sweets didn't mind the pace. The work from Quantico had been challenging and rewarding professionally while the additional patients helped feed his desire to help others and feel useful.

Sweets made his way to the coffee machine, but started to pout when he realized that it was empty. Sighing, he searched through the cupboards for coffee grounds and filters so that he could make a fresh pot.

As he searched, the therapist considered how he actually had not thought much about Booth, the Jeffersonian, or how things used to be at all over the past few days.

'_It's not good to dwell on the past,' _he told himself. '_Besides, all that stuff I was doing before was preventing me from making any real contributions to the study of psychology. It's time that I get more serious about making headway in my field.'_

Sweets scooped some coffee grounds into the filter and got the machine going. Once in a while, it did occur to him that all of the extra work he was finding for himself would make it difficult for him to get involved in any sort of research project or scholarly writing, but he was able to reason any concerns away by the idea that this would only be temporary. This was just a way to help him find his equilibrium again so that he could plunge into finding new avenues to explore.

The psychologist watched the brown liquid slowly dribble into the glass pot, and he yawned. He had gotten an email earlier that day from Cam, inviting him to lunch at the Royal Diner tomorrow so that they could catch up. It had been the first time that he had heard from any of his friends since Angela and Hodgins had left. Sweets had been surprised at how mixed his feelings were as he read it, and his first impulse had been to send a friendly note back in which he would politely turn her down. After all, he had piles of work to do and only so many hours each day to get things done.

Suddenly Sweets leaned against the counter, his hands curled into fists. He was disgusted at the plans he was making.

'_Cam is a friend. I shouldn't be avoiding her like this. She has respected me and my work from the earliest days of us working together. And….maybe she needs someone to talk to. Things have changed for her too. I need to stop thinking about how all of this affected me.'_

Sweets waited for the coffee pot to finish filling while he worked to calm down. Ever since the day when he had broken down in the parking garage, he had been trying desperately to numb himself with work. For the most part he had been successful, but he was dismayed at how easily he was overwhelmed by even the smallest reminders of how things used to be.

Once the machine was done, Sweets poured himself a full mug and went back to his office. He decided to take Cam up on her offer and wrote her a quick email setting up a time the moment he sat back down at his desk.

Satisfied at how he had handled that chore, the psychologist picked up another file and began to read. He was actually completely caught up in his reports and profiling assignments, but assured himself that it was good to get a jump on assignments that would need to be completed within the near future. As a result, he ended up staying even later than what he originally intended.

* * *

><p>The next afternoon, Sweets showed up a few minutes early at the Royal Diner and ordered himself some coffee. He did this partially so that he could make sure that he and Cam could have their own table and partially because he wanted to give the caffeine in his drink time to help him wake up.<p>

He had been exhausted by the time he got home late the previous night, but his sleep had been restless. It took an extraordinary effort to get out of bed and get ready for the day, but he had managed to make it to the office on time. Fortunately, there was not much for him to do when he first got there because he had spent most of the time lost in a sleep-deprived haze.

As soon as the coffee arrived, Sweets swiftly consumed it with a couple of greedy swallows, ignoring how it scalded his lips while he drank. He had put aside a couple of hours for lunch today in case Cam needed to talk about any issues or feelings that could be bothering her.

"Doctor Sweets."

The therapist looked up and saw Cam advancing to his table, a smile on her face. Sweets smiled back and briefly stood while she settled into her chair across from him. The waitress reappeared with a refill for Sweets, and after taking their orders, she left them alone.

"How are you doing?" the pathologist asked. "I imagine that it's kind of slow for you now that Booth and Doctor Brennan aren't dragging you out into the field or to the lab anymore."

"I've been good, thank you," Sweets replied. "And I've actually been pretty busy these days, doing some work for Quantico among other things. How are things at the lab?"

"There are some changes coming," Cam said, her voice taking on a more subdued tone. "With Brennan, Hodgins, and Angela all gone, there are those at the Jeffersonian who feel that the staff of the Medico-Legal lab would better serve the institution by being reassigned. Most of the techs have already transferred to different departments."

"What? Why?" Sweets stammered out. "Couldn't the Jeffersonian hire another forensic anthropologist and entomologist for the interim?"

"Forensic anthropologists are not all that common as it turns out," she sighed. "We were able to find one from New York who can work with our grad program, but he is unwilling to move from where he is. Plus, while there are other entomologists out there, none of them also have degrees in botany and mineralogy. In fact, most are just not up to Hodgins' standard. Having Angela gone as well does not help matters and many within the Jeffersonian feel that the focus of the staff of the Medico-Legal lab should shift back to pure research."

Sweets collapsed back in his chair, stunned. Just then their food arrived, giving him an excuse to delay responding until the waitress was done serving them. As soon as she went away, the psychologist leaned forward and asked the only question that came to him.

"What about you? With all of these changes in the lab, are you…will you still be…?"

"As much as I would love to stay and keep working at the Jeffersonian during this…hiatus…in my heart, I know that I would never be satisfied with just pure research," the pathologist answered. "Despite my current endeavors."

"Current endeavors?" Sweets said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well Seeley going back into the Army got me thinking," Cam continued. "I've seen so many soldiers go through so many traumas both before and after serving, and I kept wishing that there was something I could do to help. Usually there isn't much I can do by the time I get to them, but what I have seen over the years has made me start to wonder if I shouldn't get involved with some research of my own. So that I could help them while they are still alive."

Cam scooped up a large bite of her salad and ate it before she continued.

"I'm thinking about doing some research on my own about the long-term effects of combat on soldiers," she said. "I have a lot of my own work to draw inspiration from, and I know some people who could probably put me in touch with the people who could help me gather more data."

"That's a great idea," Sweets said. "And I am sure that that will keep you busy if you do end up not administering in the lab for now."

"Thank you," Cam smiled. "But still, I'm not going to retreat into academia. I was a cop and a coroner for too many years to completely turn my back on that kind of work. I'll probably just accept a transfer to a different office so that I can continue working as a federal coroner."

"So…that means you will be leaving the lab too," the therapist said quietly.

"Yes," Cam said. "I'm afraid not all of us can be like Doctor Brennan and bury ourselves into research."

Sweets nodded and nibbled at his food, still trying to process everything she had told him. Something in her tone, however, gave him pause.

"Perhaps for some of us, it's a case of not wanting to be like her as opposed to being able to be like her?" he said, his tone questioning. Cam sighed again and stabbed at her lettuce.

"I thought we were all good," she said. "All of us doing the worked we had striven our whole lives to do, all of us happy with where we were and with each other. But then Brennan takes off for Indonesia…and I know that Booth would not have agreed to re-join the Army if she had stayed and asked him to stay. Then Angela and Hodgins would still be here."

"Do you blame Doctor Brennan for the current state of affairs?" Sweets asked, wincing at his clinical tone.

"A part of me does, yes," Cam said. The pathologist rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.

"But the more I think about it…I don't know," she said. "Perhaps this was inevitable. Or maybe it really is what some of us needed." She suddenly sat up straighter in her seat and forced out a smile.

"These people are still my friends, and I suppose I shouldn't worry so much about how their lives affect mine," she added. "It's not as if I do not have anything on my own plate."

"Exactly," Sweets said, attempting a smile of his own. "You will still have your work and soon you'll be starting on this new research project."

"Plus Michelle is already a junior in high school," Cam replied. "We need to start thinking about colleges and all the stuff that goes with it…not to mention all of the end-of-high-school-hijinks that I am sure will come up. And then there is Paul."

"How is that going?" the therapist asked.

"Good. Really, really slow, but good," she answered. "Unfortunately two workaholics trying to date each other does not always make a good mix. But he's a great guy and we are working on it….sort of."

Cam suddenly stopped, her eyes widening at the therapist.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you…what with what happened between you and Daisy."

"It's all right, Doctor Saroyan," Sweets responded. "Things…they just didn't work out between us. But she is moving on in her work and so am I. I'll be all right." Cam reached over and patted his hand.

"Well if you need anything, Sweets, please let me know," she said. "I…I've missed seeing you around."

"Thank you," Sweets grinned. "And if you need me for anything…."

"I have you on my speed dial," Cam said.

* * *

><p>After that the conversation moved onto more casual topics and before long Cam was getting ready to leave, saying that there were still some things that she needed to take care of at the lab. Sweets offered to pay her bill, but she refused. He then watched her leave after she took care of the check.<p>

The psychologist lingered over his lunch for a few minutes longer before paying the bill and heading back to his office. After arriving, he grabbed himself some more coffee and settled into the chair he used for therapy sessions with the file for the next patient he was going to see that day. He had over a half an hour before the patient was due to arrive, but Sweets figured that he might need the time to get into the proper mindset to treat him.

He quickly realized, however, that he had made a mistake in agreeing to lunch as everything that Cam said to him continued to swirl about in his brain.

'_I thought that Cam would be alone. Alone and needing guidance and support to get through this upheaval in her life….But I was wrong. Apparently, I'm the only one….The only one who can't handle it.'_

Sweets' breath hitched as he lost the battle to keep his emotions in check. Somewhere inside of him, he knew that he had been clinging to outlandish fantasy that all of this was just a dream and that the way he felt was only temporary. He was sleepwalking through life and was simply waiting to wake up from this nightmare. All he had to do was keep working until it happened.

That fantasy was crumbling to pieces as Cam's words about the future of the lab and her moving on continued to sink in.

'_Everything is changing,' _he told himself. '_How could anything ever be the same again after all this?'_

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. He was angry at himself for losing control, but found that he could not stop himself from crying.

'_It's no good dwelling on the past,'_ he repeated to himself for what seemed like the hundredth time this week. '_I have my practice. I have many areas within my field where I could be doing research. I have plenty here to keep me going.'_

Sweets nearly choked as he took another sip of coffee and tried to rein in his sorrow. He kept repeating his own reassurances to himself over and over again.

But the more he tried to convince himself of all of this, the more it all seemed like a bunch of hollow ideas.


	4. Month One, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. As I have mentioned elsewhere, for the rest of this month I am participating in NaNoWriMo by attempting to write 50,000 words of fanfic in one month (or in my case a little less since I got a late start). I plan to spread those 50,000 words among updates to on-going projects and to occasional one-shots (like the one I posted yesterday, The Advice of the Shrink). I don't know if I'll make it, but I will certainly try. Wish me luck. :D

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**D: **I totally agree with you there. We really did not get much into the true implications of what that separation meant for most of the members of the team beyond the most superficial of tidbits (Angela getting pregnant, Cam leaving the lab, etc.). There was little digging done into how this affected each of them as people, and what led to decisions like the one Sweets had to take a sabbatical...I also agree that the Bureau probably does know that Sweets could potentially make far more in private practice, and I suspect that they want to entice him to stay by making the fullest use of his talents along with a competitive pay...As Daisy stands right now, I have to agree with you about her being pretty ill-suited for Sweets. I suppose we can hope that things will change this season, but I just don't know...

**Lives in the now: **Perhaps, but I do think that it was a little easier for Cam since she had Michelle and Paul to fall back on. Sweets didn't really have any of that. But I don't think he was idle this whole time, as future chapters will illustrate...

**Rankor01: **I think you have hit on one of the problems that Sweets' faces when interacting with the others. He is so concerned about being the counselor, that it's hard for him to know what to do when he needs that kind of counseling himself. I do think that the absence of almost all of the rest of the team is a big factor into why he went on sabbatical...but I also think it's even more complicated than that and that this whole thing has had consequences that reach further than the beginning of season six...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I agree that it is very much in character for Sweets to deflect from himself as much as possible, thus why it made sense to me that he didn't go into what was bothering him with Cam. I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Fluffybird: **Thank you. I do think that Sweets does have an equally strong and tender heart, if that makes sense. I completely agree though that he is the expressive one of the group as he tends to not hold back in his feelings most of the time, even if he doesn't always share what's inside him...As to what he needs to grow up, I do think that times like this forced him to deal with things on some level, but it might not have been the best way for him to learn, as will soon be shown.

Month One—part 2

Agent Payton Perotta sat on the couch in the waiting area outside of Sweets' office. The psychologist's secretary, Becky, had already informed him that she was here, and Sweets had asked for a few minutes before seeing her.

While she waited, Perotta wondered how Sweets was fairing these days. She had heard about Booth taking some time off from the Bureau to go to Afghanistan at the request of the Army and about how most of the key staff from the Medico-Legal lab were on sabbatical. On every occasion that she had had to work with the Jeffersonian team, the agent had noticed that they were a tight-knit group both professionally and personally. Perotta imagined that Sweets could be missing his co-workers.

She soon put thoughts like that aside and shifted her focus back onto the reason why she was here in the first place. Right now she had a double homicide to solve, one that had made all of the DC newspapers, and she was afraid that she had hit a wall in her investigation. She was hoping, however, that all that was needed was a different perspective, and she knew that Sweets was considered to be one of the best profilers working within the DC branch, if not the entire Bureau.

She was aware though, that getting his assistance on this case might be easier said than done.

Perotta sighed and fiddled with the files in her lap. She had heard from other agents in the office that Sweets was rarely available for profiling assignments these days and almost never assisted in interrogations anymore. The official word was that the psychologist was simply too busy due to his counseling practice and some on-going work he was doing in conjunction with Quantico. A part of her, however, suspected that another factor in all this was the fact that Sweets might prefer to work with the Jeffersonian team and that he did not derive as much satisfaction from working with other agents. Perotta was confident, however, that she could persuade Sweets to work with her since the two of them had meshed well in the past.

Becky's phone rang, and the secretary stopped her typing to answer it. A few seconds later she hung up and turned to Perotta with a smile.

"Doctor Sweets will see you now," she said, her voice chipper. Perotta thanked her and walked into the office to see Sweets rising from a chair near his desk.

"Agent Perotta," he smiled as he held out a hand. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Doctor Sweets," she smiled back while shaking his hand. She then sat down on the couch. As she watched the therapist settle into the chair across from her, she noticed that he seemed paler and a little bit thinner than what she remembered from before. But she attributed that to his currently massive workload.

"What can I do for you?" Sweets asked as he leaned back in his chair. Perotta took a deep breath and straightened the files in her hands.

"I could use your help," the agent said. "I'm working on a case. The one with the bodies found along the edge of Arlington."

"I heard about that on the news," Sweets nodded. They said that it was a husband and wife and that they were hanging from a tree. Apparently they owned a thriving investment firm."

"Yeah well, it turns out that the reason it was thriving was because all of their clients were being defrauded in an elaborate Ponzi scheme," Perotta said. "Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Ferris. Word is that the white collar division was thinking about making a move on them soon in light of some bad rumors that had come their way."

"And I take it that now that the owners are dead, it's a case for homicide instead," Sweets said.

"Pretty much," Perotta sighed. "The Bureau wants this one solved ASAP, but there is a problem. Apparently, word had leaked out in the business world about how the Ferrises were duping their clients and it had already made some newspapers right before this murder happened."

"So now your suspect pool includes everyone who was a client of theirs along with any known associates," the psychologist replied.

"Exactly," she said. "It was a small-time operation, but the firm had over fifty clients. Many of them family accounts. What I need is someone who could help me sift through all of these people and narrow down the suspect pool….and you are just the person to do it."

"I appreciate your confidence in me," Sweets said with a wan smile. "But I have a lot of work…."

"Please, Doctor Sweets," the agent insisted. "I know that you are busy right now, but…I've heard Agent Booth mention more than once how you've helped him sort through his cases and get him going on the right direction. I know that there's a lot here, but you're a smarty pants. You'll get to the heart of it in no time."

Sweets sighed and slumped down in his chair while Perotta leaned toward him.

"I know that working with me is not the same as working with Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan or any of the rest of the Jeffersonian staff," she said. "But I'm asking you, personally and professionally, for a favor here."

"All right," Sweets said quietly. "Send me anything you can on the crime scene along with information on the Ferris' clients and associates. I can't really leave my office today, but I should be able to work with you on this in about two days. Just keeping sending any materials to my secretary. Hopefully, I can have at least a skeleton of a profile ready when I meet with you then."

"Thank you," Perotta beamed as she stood up. Sweets did the same, and she handed him the files she had been holding.

"Here is all the stuff from the crime scene and the initial police reports," she said. "I'll be sending you some more stuff about the victims in a couple of hours."

"Ok, I'll check my schedule with Becky and send you an email later about when we can meet," Sweets said.

"Talk to you later then," Perotta said as she walked toward the door. "Oh and thanks again."

Once she was in the hallway, Perotta breathed a sigh of relief. She figured that she would probably be able to solve this murder on her own eventually without Sweets, but knew that it would have been a much longer and more painstaking process. She was glad that she had been able to rope Sweets into the investigation, confident that it would probably go a lot faster and smoother now.

* * *

><p>Back in his office, Sweets sat back down and flipped through the files that Perotta had left him. In the back of his mind, he was a little concerned about how he was going to find time to help her with this case, but he soon decided that he would just have to make time. Partially because he did look forward to working with her again.<p>

And partially because he hoped to ease his own recent concerns about his work and its future.

Over the last couple of weeks, Sweets had buried himself deeper and deeper into his practice and into work outside his normal responsibilities at the office. His original project with Quantico had actually ended almost a week ago, but then the psychologist volunteered to do additional work for them which led to more assignments from the Behavioral Analysis unit there. That along with his renewed attentiveness to his practices had given him little time to work on criminal cases with agents at the DC branch of the Bureau, and as a result, he usually passed on requests from agents for his assistance in profiling or interrogations.

So far, none of his superiors had minded the shift in Sweets' work habits since his patients had shown solid progress under his care and because his work with Quantico had garnered a lot of favorable attention within the FBI.

But deep down, Sweets knew that Perotta had been even more right than she could have realized about why he was reluctant to work with other agents now that Booth, Brennan, Angela and Hodgins were gone and Cam was no longer stationed at the Jeffersonian.

The therapist sighed again and sat the folders down onto the coffee table. Ever since he was a child, a part of him had always resisted change when it came to his personal life. His parents had understood it as a by-product of the chaotic and horrifying early childhood he had endured and did everything they could to make his life as stable and secure as possible. He had thrived in the world that they had created for him and it was devastating to Sweets when they both passed away so close together. That and his simultaneous acquisition of a new home and career in DC had caused massive upheaval in his life that had taken almost a year to get under control.

One of the things that had made this transition possible was the introduction of Booth and Brennan into his life and the subsequent relationships he built with Angela, Cam and Hodgins. Now his life had been turned upside down again, but this time, it looked as if there was not going to be any kind of support system for him to fall back on or to build around him while he adjusted.

Sweets swallowed hard, but then worked to square his shoulders as he stood up and gathered the files into his hands.

'_This is childish,' _he told himself. '_The Bureau hired me to work criminal cases. It's the reason I got a doctorate in behavioral analysis. I can't just stop doing this kind of work just because I miss my frie—the people I am comfortable with. I need to do what Caroline said and grow up so that I can learn to deal with things on my own.'_

Determined, Sweets took the files back to his desk and sat down to work. He knew that he would probably have to spend even longer hours at work for the next few days than what he had originally planned in order to be able to get everything he needed to done, but he found that he didn't really mind that at all.

Work gave him purpose. At least enough purpose to keep him going until he found something deeper to anchor his soul to.

* * *

><p>Over the next two days, Sweets rarely left his office other than to grab a meal from the Hoover Building's cafeteria or to go home so he could grab a few hours of sleep. Meanwhile Perotta had continued to send him additional information about the Ferrises, their clients and their associates along with any forensic findings that she was able to get.<p>

Communicating through a series of emails, Sweets and Perotta first eliminated suspects who had solid alibis or who were probably not physically capable of performing these vicious attacks. They then constructed a time line for the victims' movements over the last few hours of their lives, after which, Sweets began to work on victimology and on profiling the murderer while Perotta continued to interview people.

When he had first embarked on all of this work, Sweets had initially been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of all of the tasks that he needed to do. But soon he had been able to work up a steady pace and lose himself in his work, making it possible for him to work for hours while losing track of time. During this, he was relieved to discover that his skills and interest in criminal pathology had not abated as he had once feared.

Still, during those brief moments when he would allow his mind to take a break from work, Sweets could not help but feel like something was missing. Some additional spark that had nothing to do with the work itself. Whenever that feeling started to gnaw at him, the psychologist became frustrated. He hated it when he couldn't pinpoint or discern the issues that were bothering him or the emotions he was feeling. It was as if he were blind and stumbling about in the dark, finding nothing and getting nowhere.

These thoughts would always get pushed aside in a few moments, however, when Sweets decided that it was time to get back to work. As much as it pained him to leave questions about his own psyche unanswered, the therapist decided that it was more important to focus on solving the case for now.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Sweets and Perotta were sitting in the conference room, eating some Chinese food while going over everything they had learned thus far about the case.<p>

"So…you're saying that Thompson is out?" Perotta asked as she took notes on a yellow legal pad.

"I watched the video of his interrogation," Sweets said. "At one point, one of the agents cut his finger and Thompson fainted. In my opinion, he suffers from hemophobia."

"Which is?" she asked with a slight smirk.

"The fear of blood," the psychologist answered. "It's common for people to suffer from anxieties in relation to blood which can lead to things like fainting spells. Thompson would not have been able to stab the victims multiple times considering the severity of his disorder."

"What about that word that was spelled out in the victims' blood?" Perotta asked. "Akeldama?"

"Field of blood," Sweets replied. "It's the place where Judas was said to have committed suicide in the Bible. It also explains the method that was used to murder the victims since some translations say that he was hung and that he gutted himself. I believe that someone was acting out of what they thought was righteous vengeance."

"Or maybe they were just delusional," Perotta said as she reached for a wonton.

"It's not uncommon for those two things to go hand-in-hand," Sweets shrugged as he started to eat from the carton of fried rice.

"I suppose it isn't," she said. The agent then read through some more paperwork and took additional notes while Sweets continued to eat. A few minutes later, she turned her pad of paper toward him.

"So I was thinking of focusing on this set of suspects," Perotta said, tapping her finger onto a list of names. The therapist scanned the list.

"I agree that these people would be your best bet," Sweets replied. "They all meet the physical requirements to carry out the crime, and all of them do seem to possess the right level of rage and self-importance necessary to execute it the way it was done."

"All right," she said as she rose from her chair. "I'm going to do a little more digging on them and then start bringing them in tomorrow for questioning. You up for helping out with this?"

"I don't have very many appointments tomorrow," Sweets said hesitantly. "I suppose I could move thing around so that I could help out."

"Great," Perotta said as she gathered up her paperwork and files. She then put her share of the food into the plastic bag that it came in and started to walk out of the conference room.

"I'm just going to finish this in my office while I get some paperwork done," she said. "I'll see you at your office tomorrow morning. Make sure to let me know when you will be available."

"I will," Sweets nodded. "See you then." After she left, Sweets turned his chair toward the table so that he could finish up his meal. Biting into an egg roll, Sweets pondered the fact that he was now eating his takeout meal alone when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

'_Booth and I always finished our meals together. Unless something urgent came up on the case. We'd even work on the paperwork together so that we could talk over the case…or anything else on our minds….'_

Sweets gulped down the rest of his egg roll, the taste no longer appealing to him. He realized what he had been missing during this whole case with Perotta: the moments in-between the work. Shared meals of takeout while finishing paperwork, breakfasts spent going over plans for the day, car rides that often led to conversations both on the case and on more personal topics, trips to the lab to catch up on the latest information as well as to catch up on the latest events among the team.

The therapist picked at his food with his chopsticks. When he had first started working at the Bureau, Sweets had assured himself that the work was all that he needed. Having recently lost his parents, he had been reluctant to form any new relationships beyond the most casual ones. But over time he let himself open up enough to form close friendships with Booth, Brennan, Hodgins, Cam and Angela and had even put his heart out there enough build not one, but two different romantic relationships during this interval.

Even as he formed all of these new bonds, Sweets continued to tell himself that if it came down to it, all he needed to sustain himself was his work.

Now that he was actually facing that very prospect, Sweets was scared to discover that there was a possibility that he had been wrong all along.

* * *

><p>The next three days were busy ones for Sweets as he tried to keep all of his appointments with his patients while still finding time to help Perotta. It was a grueling pace, but soon they were rewarded by the apprehension and arrest of the Ferrises' murderer.<p>

"He kept saying how he had do to the "Lord's work"", Perotta told Sweets after she had made the arrest. "And about how he needed to send a message to all of the other devils who dared to prey on the innocents. The fact that he lost over two million dollars to their bogus firm probably didn't help matters."

"Certainly fits the profile of enraged and vengeful," the psychologist replied.

"Well at least we've got him in custody," she sighed. "And speaking of that, thank you, Doctor Sweets for your help." Perotta smiled and shook his hand.

"You're welcome Agent Perotta," he grinned back. "Glad I could help."

"I should get back to work," she said as she backed away. "I bet you need to too. Anyway, maybe I'll see you around again some time."

The agent walked away and as Sweets watched her leave, one thought continued to echo inside his mind.

'_I may be here…but is that going to be enough?'_


	5. Month Two, part 1

Author's Note: Next chapter. I'm running a little behind on my NaNoWrMo, so I hope to do some catching up over the next few days. I hope I can still pull it off. *fingers crossed*

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I'm not too surprised that we agree on Sweets. I think a lot of the fans of his character have some common beliefs about him. :) I'm glad you enjoyed the case with Perotta... I do think though that this is a bonding point for all of them, the time they spend with each other as a result of working so much together. Thus, I could see Sweets missing that kind of thing now that Team Jeffersonian is not around...I hope you enjoy this update.

**Lives in the now: **I agree that Perotta worked well with Sweets, and thus, it is fun to have her appear in my fics once in a while. I agree that Sweets should be looking outside the office and not just rely on work to help him cope, although I can see him doing that at first since he strikes me as the workaholic type. But even that has to end at some point as this next chapter will illustrate...

**D: **Exactly. I think he wanted to believe that he could shun relationships and focus just on work in order to protect himself from being hurt (not unlike Brennan, I think), but as you pointed out, it just doesn't work that way. Especially for someone like him who seems to crave connections with other people. This chapter will continue to drive that home...

**Rankor01: **Thank you. I know that I was initially confused at the idea of Sweets leaving his practice and his work at the Bureau and playing piano when I saw the season six opener for the first time. A part of me wondered what could drive him away from the "deeper calling" that Wyatt pointed out within him, and as I thought about it, I realized that Sweets seems to draw as much happiness from simply working and being with Team Jeffersonian as he does professional/personal satisfaction from the work he does. Thus, it does make sense to me that having almost his entire support system knocked out would cause severe confusion/anxiety for him...

Month Two—part 1

Sweets usually did not like surprises, but that morning he was met with one. A unwelcome one.

* * *

><p>It had been a little over a month by this point since most of his friends had left DC and he embarked on his quest to bury himself in his work. His continued assignments from Quantico and his practice had kept him busy enough that he finally abandoned any work on criminal investigations. Sweets' supervisor, Agent Warner, was more than slightly irritated at this turn of events, but he did nothing about it since he knew that Deputy Director Hacker had personally sanctioned the psychologist's decision since it gave him a chance to curry favor with his contacts at Quantico, who had consistently praised Sweets' work.<p>

A week ago, however, Sweets' workload had slackened due to being in between projects and a couple of his patients completing their therapy sessions with him. This left the therapist with some free time on his hands. Determined to fill those empty hours, he decided to do some "spring cleaning" on his office and tackle some of his more mundane work responsibilities that he had been putting off.

Thus, the last few days were spent doing reports and filling out paperwork which needed to be done, but had not been urgent. Once he had completed all of that, he spent the next two days going through his files and papers that were in his file cabinets and on his desk, shredding some papers and sending others to the long term storage areas of the Bureau.

It was all boring busywork, but Sweets didn't mind since he was still able to keep himself distracted while he did it.

It was on his second day of cleaning out old papers that he opened up a drawer to find the manuscript from his book about Booth and Brennan sitting inside.

Sweets pulled it out and stared at it. After throwing away the copies that he had given to Booth and Brennan to read, he had thrown his own copy in this drawer, and it had stayed there, untouched, ever since. He had put it there that fateful night when Booth and Brennan had confronted him with the book's contents and with the story of their actual first case together.

The therapist slowly walked over to the chair he used for therapy sessions and sank down onto it.

That night had been filled with confusion, frustration, and fear: confusion at how their dynamic had developed, frustration at how they continued to evade and hide things from him, and fear that both his book and all of his efforts in his sessions with them had been at best ineffectual and at worst detrimental to Booth and Brennan on their journey to become more than just partners.

That night, Sweets had been confronted by one person who stubbornly clung to rationality to avoid facing the prospect of change and by another person who was so afraid of losing what he currently had that he was willing to swallow his feelings and wait around indefinitely instead of taking the chance to have something far better.

And that night ended with all of the proof that Sweets needed of his failure.

Desperate to break through the wall of rigid beliefs and past hurts, Sweets had challenged them to "break this stalemate" lest the situation fester and stagnate to the point of no return for both of them. He had focused on Booth specifically, confident that the agent's strong heart and courageous nature could convince Brennan to take the same chance as him.

Instead of creating the opening that they both needed, however, it blew up in their faces…leaving Sweets to wonder just how horrible his mistake had been.

The psychologist leaned back in his chair and absentmindedly flipped through the pages. This book project had originally been a spur-of-the-moment decision. When the Bureau terminated the mandated therapy sessions between him and Booth and Brennan, Sweets had panicked and had scrambled to find a way to hold onto the connection he felt with them, and by extension, with the rest of the team at the Jeffersonian. Thus, the decision to write a detailed analysis of their partnership in return for them being able to call upon his services on demand.

But even though the book's conception had been sudden and decided upon in an instant, Sweets had taken his commitment to write this tome seriously. This meant not only many therapy sessions spent trying to extract what little information he could from his two stubborn patients, but also numerous hours researching additional material, hours spent writing and re-writing chapters, and hours spent analyzing and reflecting on everything that went into this book. It was a project that consumed a lot of his free time and that had led to more than one late night at the office.

All of those hours and all of that work lost its meaning and purpose though on that night. His book was a sham, a fraud, a hollow accomplishment if not a grievous blemish on his professional record.

Sweets' hands began to tremble as he stared at the manuscript that he was holding. Recently, he had started to consider the possibility that the reason both Booth and Brennan had felt dissatisfied with their lives in DC was precisely because their partnership had faltered so badly…a development that Sweets suspected that he might have played a hand in.

'_I didn't know,' _he thought. '_I thought that I knew them. Thought that I understood the situation. Thought that I could help them. But I didn't know anything. Nothing at all.'_

'_And what makes now any different from before?'_

Once that question appeared in his brain, Sweets could not stop a new emotion from overtaking him.

Rage.

Sweets grabbed at the heavy paper cover of his manuscript and tore it off. He then proceeded to rip page after page out of the book, crumbling the paper in his hands as he did it. Soon his movements sped up and, no longer satisfied with just tearing out the pages, he started to shred each piece into bits. Scraps of paper started to float down onto the carpet. By this point, all Sweets could see was red, and all he could hear was the sound of paper being destroyed.

'_It's my fault. All of it. I should have never written this stupid thing. All I did was make things worse.'_

The manuscript was rapidly disintegrating in his shaking hands, but Sweets barely noticed it. He was too caught up in his frenzy to obliterate it.

'_Booth was right…So was Brennan….I'm too young. I don't know them. I never did…How was I supposed to get anywhere with them? What did I think that I could accomplish?'_

'_What am I accomplishing now?'_

Sweets blinked hard and looked down into his lap to see his manuscript laying in pieces all around him. He rose from his chair, picked up a nearby wastebasket, and knelt down onto the floor so that he could robotically scoop the mess into the trash. After he was done, he put the wastebasket back and stared at walls.

'_I can't be here right now.'_

The psychologist stood back up and grabbed his suit jacket, leaving the rest of his things on the desk. He then left the office, pausing once he got close to his secretary's desk.

"Um, Becky," he stammered. "I…I'm not feeling very well, so I'm going home early. Feel free to do the same."

"All right," Becky said. "I'll just finish up these last couple of reports and then I'll go do some errands I've been meaning to get to. I'll send you an email later about any appointments you have tomorrow. Oh and Doctor Sweets, I hope you feel better soon."

Sweets thanked her and then sped out of the building as fast as he could without drawing too much attention. Once or twice the therapist thought that someone could have been calling out his name, but he made sure to ignore them. Eventually, he made it to the parking garage and got into his car.

He then spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what to do. It had been weeks since he had allowed himself any time to do anything outside of work and the basic necessities like eating and sleeping. Now, he was at a loss as to how to spend his time. He longed for some kind of guidance to show him how to get through the turmoil he was facing.

It was then, while he was feeling this ache inside of him that he was able to finally come up with a destination. The only destination that made sense to him at this point.

* * *

><p>After a brisk two hour trip along the highway, Sweets slowly walked into a cemetery, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He had visited his parents about four months ago on his birthday, which he did every year, and had planned on coming again on their wedding anniversary. But right now, he could not think of anywhere else he would rather be.<p>

He soon arrived at the gravesite and stopped, carefully placing the flowers by the headstone before sitting down on the ground beside the grave. He then stared at the words carved into the stone.

_David Stephen Sweets—Carolyn Michelle Sweets_

_Husband and wife—Loving parents_

Sweets drew his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins. It was a warm day, and sweat was running down the back of his neck. He was also getting his suit dirty and stained from the ground, but he didn't care about any of that.

"Mom, Dad," he mumbled. "I…."

Sweets stopped, unable to find the words for what he felt and what he needed to say. Instead he started to weep. At first it was just a few tears dribbling out of his eyes, but soon it increased into a torrent of sobs. He buried his face against his legs to muffle the sound, but that gesture did nothing to quiet his soul.

* * *

><p>It took almost an hour, but eventually the tears slowed down and started to dry up as Sweets finally began to let go of the rage and sorrow he had been trying to hold back for weeks. He wiped at his face a few times and yanked off his tie, stuffing it into his pocket. Only then was he able to find the strength to speak.<p>

"Mom, Dad," he began again. "I…So much has changed since the last time that I talked to you. And I don't know about anything anymore. I thought that I would be married by now, but…that…that's not going to happen. I thought that I had found a new place to belong…but I'm pretty sure that I was wrong about that too."

Sweets sniffed again and swiped at his nose with his sleeve.

"And now, I…I uh…I'm not sure about what to do with my life," he continued. "I thought that I was helping people and I thought that helping to put criminals away would be a good thing. And I guess that I was doing some good but…I wasn't able to even help the people closest to me. How much good can I really be doing if I can't even help the people who I care about and who I…?"

'_Love,' _he finished in his mind. Even though this was something he had felt for the tight-knit group of people that he worked with for a long time now, he had always been fearful of voicing the sentiment aloud. Ever since he was a child, Sweets had been careful to guard his heart. He had been willing to show concern and compassion for friends he had had over the years and to his patients, but it was another thing entirely for him to open up his heart enough to love someone.

For the longest time, the only people who breached those defenses were his parents, and eventually when Sweets became an adult, he had been willing to try to build a relationship with the women he fell in love with. What he felt for Booth, Brennan, Cam, Angela and Hodgins, however, was different. It had been the first time since his parents that he had allowed himself to love others like family. At first, it had been a terrifying experience for him as he realized how he felt about them, but over time, he learned to face his fears somewhat and let them into his heart, even though he could not find the courage to express his affection explicitly very often.

Sitting here alone by his parents' grave, Sweets could not help but wonder if his decision to risk his heart that way had not been brave but instead, foolhardy.

"I guess I'm wondering if what I do matters," Sweets continued. "If any of it matters. Am I actually helping people or am I just kidding myself? Sometimes I walk into my office and I feel like such a…fraud. And I don't know how to stop feeling this way." The psychologist placed his hand onto the headstone, tracing his parents' names with his fingers.

"I know that you are always with me," he whispered. "But…I wish you were here with me now too."

Sweets fell silent and dropped his hand back down into his lap. Despite how he felt in this moment, he knew that he needed to carry on. He had promised his parents to live his life as best he could, and the psychologist knew that part of that entailed dedicating himself to the vocation that had had studied for and yearned to pursue for a large portion of his life.

The psychologist stood up and placed his hand one last time on the head stone before starting to back away.

"I love you," he said before turning and walking out of the cemetery. He got into his car and made the long drive back to DC. Sweets then ended up spending the rest of the day at home. He read for a little while and then collapsed into bed, exhausted from the pace he had been working for a while.

That evening and night, his dreams had been filled with memories from his childhood and thus, Sweets was able to return to his parents, if only for a short time.


	6. Month Two, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am glad that we will now get three more episodes of Bones before the end of the year...but I have a feeling that it's going to be a long hiatus...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**D:** I agree that Sweets does have a fragile side of him despite the fact that he also displays very real strength in other areas. It's a complex and fascinating contrast to me. But you are right that I could see him losing confidence in a situation like this, and I agree that it could very well be part of what drove him to his "piano man" persona. Also, I agree that there are some interesting parallels between him and Booth as far as how they approach life and love. The funny thing is that they can each see it in each other, but never in themselves. This is why though, I think they have grown closer over the years: because they do share an understanding about certain things that the others don't always latch onto.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I realize that the whole book thing was a plot point to keep Sweets around for some "reason", but like you, I was disappointed that they never went more into what it was like for him to put all that time into it and then just throw it away...As for contact with Booth or anyone else...this chapter is for you...

**Rankor01: **See, I've always taken the stance that Sweets did indeed set something in motion that night...but even though it was negative at first, it needed to happen. He was exactly right in saying that things had reached a stalemate, and knowing how stubborn B&B are and how easy it is for them to resist change, something needed to happen to jar them out of this holding pattern. The problem is though, I do see Sweets as the type who would blame himself for things going wrong if he played even the smallest hand in them, and at first, things did look very bad for B&B...This is something that I wish was addressed on the show at least a little: does Sweets think about his parents much and what are his memories of them like? Even though his stance on what happens after death seems somewhat conflicted at times, I still think that he would consider his adoptive parents one of the few "constants" that he can rely on in life...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I also agree that, in the end, B&B made their own decisions, despite what has been implied elsewhere. And again, I do think that in the long run it needed to happen in order for things to end up where they are now. But it would have been hard for Sweets to see it that way at the time considering how the team split up in what looks like weeks after that fateful night portrayed in episode 100. Thus, I could see it affecting him in a very deep way...

Month Two—part 2

About three weeks later, Sweets was spending another uneventful morning in his office, sipping coffee while reading through his emails.

* * *

><p>After spending time visiting his parents, Sweets ended up taking the rest of the week off to rest, hoping that it would help his shattered nerves. When he woke up on the first morning of his mini-vacation, he thought about visiting some of his favorite haunts that he had been neglecting like the Royal Diner and the Founding Fathers. But he quickly discarded that idea as he realized that those places still held too many poignant memories for him.<p>

Instead, he spent the first couple of days at home relaxing and just doing whatever occurred to him. He spent hours reading books, watching television and playing video games while making homemade meals with whatever he could find in his cupboards. The idea of being able to wile away so many hours however he pleased all while not shaving or putting on a suit felt hopelessly decadent to him, and he let himself relish the feeling.

On the final day of his long weekend, Sweets decided to spend a day wandering the city. He ate a leisurely lunch at a tiny local Mexican restaurant and then went to a piano concert later that evening.

It had been years since he had attended a classical music concert. His mother had taken him a couple of times when he was a child as another way to expose him to the finer arts. He had even taken piano lessons at his mother's behest for a number of years until he abandoned them as a teenager. But as he grew older, Sweets had found piano playing to be a good way to work through his emotions without having to analyze them. Attending the concert ended up being a soothing and yet visceral experience, and the therapist made a note to attend another concert some time soon.

When he returned to work at the beginning of the next week, he felt refreshed and decided to try approaching his work with a more positive mindset.

'_Maybe I'm not as a good of a psychologist as I want to be. Maybe I still have a lot to learn,' _he told himself. '_I could study. I could research. I could improve. I just need to find ways to become a better therapist and to move my work to the next level.'_

Since his work with Quantico had slowed down, Sweets delved into doing some research of his own and endeavored to expand his knowledge within his field. He spent hours and days reading and studying various publications and started to try to find ways to refine his own therapeutic techniques. He was reluctant to start another formal research project of his own, but Sweets found plenty to intrigue and fascinate him in other people's work and in his own explorations.

Even though his practice at the Bureau was still engaging to him, Sweets found himself longing to do something more for others. As a result, he started to volunteer his counseling services every other Sunday at a free clinic that offered assistance to people who were dealing with long-term, chronic illnesses like cancer, AIDS or MS. Sweets found his "deeper calling" even better served when given the chance to be able to provide some comfort to people who were having to deal with such overwhelming burdens in their lives.

* * *

><p>That particular morning, Sweets was mainly catching up on more mundane tasks like filling out patient reports and answering inter-office emails. Suddenly a new message popped onto his computer screen. At first he ignored it since he was determined to attend to each email in its turn, but then he stopped what he was doing when he happened to see the sender of this new message.<p>

_Seeley Booth._

Sweets felt his heart jump as he clicked onto the message with his mouse.

The email wasn't very long, just four to five paragraphs. Half of it was Booth letting him know about the kind of things he was involved with in Afghanistan and then him asking the psychologist what he was doing right now. It wasn't until toward the end that the tone started to shift.

"_Everything seems to be changing," _Booth had written. "_Angela and Hodgins married and running off to Paris. Cam no longer at the lab. Bones and Daisy doing…whatever it is that they are doing in the Mali Poo Poo islands. I know that it's only supposed to be a year, but somehow it feels like more than that.'_

The psychologist nodded his head as he read this, relieved that he wasn't the only one who felt a sense of loss and disorientation at the changes happening.

"_I haven't heard from Bones, so I don't know how she is doing…So if you hear anything, could you let me know how she is or what she is doing?"_

Sweets felt his heart ache a little as he read those words. He had hoped that Brennan would maintain lines of contact with Booth in deference to their partnership, but it appeared as if the anthropologist was going to sever all ties for now while she tried to "gain perspective" while working on the Maluku project.

"_And hey, Sweets, I don't want you to read a bunch of weird shrinky mumbo-jumbo into this, but I need you to do me a favor. Could you go and check on Parker? He's been writing me on a regular basis ever since I left and things seem ok. But…I'm not really sure how he feels about all this: me being here, what I'm doing and all that. I already mentioned this to Rebecca, and you now have a standing invitation to dinner some night. Just let her know when you'd like to come over."_

The therapist shook his head at that. Ever since he had known him, Sweets had noticed how important it was to Booth to be a good father to Parker. He suspected that part of it was probably due to the agent's desire to avoid turning out like his own father: drunk, abusive, and neglectful. But Sweets was also aware that Booth was simply a good man, and by extension, a good father. Despite that, Booth tended to worry excessively about the job he was doing as a parent, and Sweets figured that it was very difficult for the agent to have these concerns about Parker while he was so far away from him.

'_Don't worry, Booth. I'll drop by and see him,' _Sweets told himself. He doubted that things were as dire as Booth seemed to think they were, but Sweets decided to do it as a way to make Booth feel better. Plus, the psychologist figured that this would also give Parker a chance to say whatever might be on his mind, in case he needed to talk without involving his parents. Sweets made a mental note to contact Rebecca as soon as possible and to reply to Booth's email as soon as he was done reading it.

The rest of the letter was Booth wishing him well in his own gruff way along with assurances that he was fine and that he would write again at some point.

"_Look Sweets, I know that this has probably not been easy for you, what with Daisy leaving and everyone else taking off from DC. But still…keep your head up. You're a tough, smart guy. I'm sure something good will come your way soon. And hey, if all else fails, you could always start another book."_

'_I don't think that I'll be writing another book any time soon,' _Sweets frowned. Still, even that though was not able to squash the warm feeling he had at Booth's regard for him. As he finished the email, the psychologist found that he couldn't stop his eyes from watering up a little, although this time, it was not from despair.

It was then that he realized that what had made him so emotional about this email in the first place: this was the first time he had had any contact with his former co-workers ever since they had split up, other than the one lunch he had with Cam a while ago. This unexpected gesture from Booth had managed to spark the hope in Sweets that, despite all the changes and upheavals, there was still a place for him in his friends' lives.

Sweets wiped his eyes, took a long swig from his mug, and started to type away at his keyboard. He wanted to send a reply to Booth as soon as possible, but of equal importance to him right now was how energized he felt and how buoyant his mood had become. Now he was even more determined on his quest to improve his skills and to make strides professionally.

'_Booth's making the best of things…and he's in a war zone. I should start trying harder too.'_

The rest of the morning was spent composing a response to the agent's email, after which Sweets ended up working steadily until late in the evening.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sweets showed up to his office, exhausted but still determined. He brought in a larger than usual cup of coffee and settled in at his desk for some more work before the day's first patient came in. He turned on his computer and pulled up his emails only to have his heart stop when he saw one message that he had gotten sometime late last night.<p>

It was a note from Daisy.

Hands trembling, Sweets opened up the email and started to read its contents. There was the expected gushing and excitement about being a part of this expedition, about working so closely with Brennan, and about the potential for major breakthroughs in the field of anthropology as a result of this project. Breakthroughs which Daisy was sure would get her plenty of attention among other respected anthropologists.

The therapist frowned at the cheery tone of the email and at how she persisted in calling him 'Lancelot'.

'_It's like she thinks that nothing's changed,' _he thought bitterly. '_Like I'm just sitting here on my hands, waiting patiently for her to come home and then all will be forgiven. As if everything would be exactly the same as it was before.'_

'_But…isn't that what I've been hoping for all this time? For things to be the way they used to be?'_

Sweets sighed and collapsed back in his chair. He couldn't deny that a part of him was still angry at Daisy for the way she sprung the Maluku project on him and that another part of him was still hurt that she had chosen her career over him. But he was also aware that he could not hold onto these poisonous emotions forever, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. After all, whether he wanted to admit it or not, a part of his would always love her, and he was glad that she was able to find a happiness and completion to her life that she wasn't able to find with him.

Still, he did not want to give her the impression that they were still a couple, not at this point. There were too many issues, too many wounds, for him to get past. He would send her back a polite, but impersonal reply and would not pursue any additional communication with her.

'_She's decided to move on,' _he told himself, steeling his resolve. '_It's time that I do the same.'_

He decided to set her email aside and wait to respond later in the day after he had had time to calm down, but one part of it continued to stick in his brain.

"_Making the decision to be a part of the Maluku project was one of the hardest decisions I ever made. I didn't really want to leave my Lancelot. But I am so glad that I did. I just know that I will now have the chance to become the anthropologist and the person I was meant to be. I hope you can find a way to eventually realize your potential professionally as well. Trust me, there's nothing more rewarding than that."_

The first time he had read it, Sweets was filled with irritation that she continued to treat her decision to leave him so casually and with anger over the implication that he had not made any real mark within his own field up to this point. But after taking time to allow his feelings to dissipate, Sweets thought that she might be onto something.

'_She has worked hard for years to get opportunities like this…and so have I. No matter what anyone else thinks, it wasn't easy to get these two doctorates. And you know what? I should be doing the same thing she is. I should be working to blaze my own trail within psychology and to realize my own professional dreams. I've been wasting all this time focusing on my personal relationships and it's made me neglect the very thing that I worked so hard to achieve.'_

Sweets took a long swallow of coffee before slamming the cup down onto his desk, not caring when a little of it splashed out and burned his wrist. It was time for him to stop focusing on things that were only temporary and inconsequential in the larger scheme of things. What mattered now was that he live up to the potential that everyone saw in him within his chosen profession. Everything else would only be a distraction at this point.

He just hoped that he could continue to ignore the nagging suspicion that he was still missing something. Something vital to his soul.


	7. Month Three, part 1

Author's Note: Next chapter (and month). I am sorry about the long delay on updating this fic too (sigh). As I stated elsewhere, I hope to catch up on all my open projects here soon...if not finish one or two of them in the near future...

I do no own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is still reading/following/reviewing this.

**Rankor01: **Well I sort of buy the communication blackout slightly from Brennan partially because of her remote location, plus I get the sense that not everyone kept up with Sweets during those missing seven months due to how some reacted to his current state when he came back. But yeah, I don't buy that none of them kept in contact with each other at all...and often that includes Brennan...I think Daisy slowly grew over time during that time away, but is still struggling with her desire to enhance her career at all costs versus maintaining the commitment of a relationship with Sweets. But as you pointed out, in a classic Daisy way, she still misses the big picture to some extent...As to how things evolved the way they did, I think the next three or four chapters will explain that...

**D: **I agree with you about how much Brennan's lack of communication affected so much, which was part of the reason why I was mostly with Cam when she expressed her frustration with Brennan at the beginning of the Season Six opening episode...I assumed that part of the reason why it was called the "Medico-Legal" lab was because it was expected that they might have to work on criminal cases from time to time. Granted, episode 100 seemed to indicate that that was a very rare occurrence, but it explains why they supposedly have so many protocols in relation to forensics in the lab. Also, given the relative small number of forensic anthropologists in existence (and the fact that I often thought that this lab partially existed because they had some of the best people in their fields like Brennan and Hodgins), I guess I thought that they closed it down because they figured that they didn't need such a large, expensive lab if they aren't going to be a lot of criminal or cutting edge research work anymore. Again, these are all just my guesses...As to what triggers Sweets' sabbatical, I think this chapter will help a lot with that...

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. :) I had a feeling that Booth kept in contact with Sweets somewhat just because Sweets seemed to know about Hannah already in episode 6.01. And as for Daisy...considering her words as well in that episode, it wouldn't surprise me if she tried to contact him since she felt that their relationship was caught in more of a holding pattern than anything else. As to what Sweets' response will be to everything in that chapter...this update will go into that...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. And don't worry, I won't forget about the idea of Sweets helping Booth out in future chapters or the idea of the two of them keeping in contact with each other from time to time. :) As to Daisy, I do think that the writers are trying a little harder this season, but I agree that we need to get to the meatier aspects of their relationship if they are going to sell us the idea of a couple growing and becoming increasingly committed to each other. For now though, I guess all we can do is hope that that is the writers' intention...

Month Three—part 1

"You can see why we are concerned, Doctor Sweets," Special Agent Warner said as he leaned forward in his chair.

The psychologist nodded silently at his supervisor's words. As much as he hated to admit it, deep down, he understood completely where this concern came from.

It had now been about three months since Booth and much of the key Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab staff had left DC for various pursuits around the world. It was something that Sweets tried to think about as little as possible these days., and most of the time he succeeded.

But now it was becoming painfully clear that the price of this success had been a slow, subtle dismantling of both his personal and professional life.

For the first couple of months, his work with Quantico had kept him busy enough to justify spending all of his available work time either with projects for them or with his counseling practice. Eventually though, the number of projects Quantico sent him trickled down to a sporadic number. Also, his practice was currently a bit slow due to a slight dip in the number of patients that he had.

Despite this, Sweets worked to find other ways to keep himself busy. Unfortunately, much of it fell outside his expected duties at the Bureau.

He continued to catch up on various lines of research within the field of psychology, including advances in clinical treatments, while also exploring more into criminal pathology and forensics. To his dismay, however, instead of being inspired to pursue his own research ideas, Sweets found himself at a loss to know how he could contribute anything from his own perspective into the field.

He had also continued to fill his free time by increasing the number of hours he spent at the clinic, counseling people for next to nothing or even for free as a way to help others who desperately needed it. It had proven to be a somewhat fulfilling way for Sweets to volunteer, but he couldn't deny that he missed the chance to build a true therapeutic relationship with the people he was seeing. The nature of the place made it so that he rarely saw the same people more than a couple of times, and thus sometimes, Sweets ached to be able to do more than place some sort of psychological "band-aid" onto their psyches. Especially since he sensed that the people who needed help the most were often the ones who came for therapy the most infrequently.

The time spent on all of these activities soon encroached on his time at the office and that meant that Sweets would often deny requests for his profiling services or any other aid in criminal investigations. This trend inevitably caught the attention of his supervisors, including Agent Warner. A meeting had been arranged to discuss the situation, and Sweets completely understood why it was needed.

That knowledge did not stop Sweets from feeling a lead weight form in his chest.

"I understand that you enjoyed great success when working with Agent Booth and the staff at the Jefferson," Warner continued. "And believe me, the Bureau has been pleased with the contributions you have been making to their crime-fighting unit. But Doctor Sweets, the Bureau cannot afford to have you work with them exclusively, especially now that they have temporarily disbanded and are involved in other activities. Your talents would be a great asset to other agents here who are investigating open criminal cases. I was more than willing to let things slide while you were heavily engaged with Quantico, but now that your work load from them has diminished, I think it's time that you resumed your duties with this office in regards to investigations."

Sweets could tell that Warner's tone indicated that this was less of a request and more of an order. The psychologist had to agree that Warner had been more than fair with up to this point. Still, that did not stop him from feeling less than enthusiastic about working actively with other agents.

"Sir, there is still the chance that my work with Quantico could pick up again," Sweets pointed out. "And I would like to be available for it if the time comes. Also, the research I'm doing right now into victimology could very well…."

"Doctor Sweets," Warner cut in. "I don't think I have to tell you that this is not just a suggestion." The agent then eased back in his chair, his expression thoughtful.

"Let me assure you that I am not completely unaware of your situation," he added. "I know that your work with Booth and the Medico-Legal lab went beyond professional satisfaction. You probably developed a rapport with them. I understand that. I also understand that it can be difficult and jarring to lose your niche when it was full of such synergy. But this is not only the nature of work; it's the nature of life. And you need to learn to move on from your current discomfort over the situation."

"I understand," Sweets said dully.

"I hope that you do," Warner nodded as he shuffled some papers about on his desk. "Now, we have some cases that could use your profiling expertise. I will be informing you in about a day or so about your assignments and then I will send the needed files over to your secretary. I expect your usual best work, Doctor Sweets. That will be all for now."

The psychologist nodded and left the office without a word. He walked mechanically down the hallways back toward his office, processing the meeting that just occurred as he went.

'_Warner is right' _he thought to himself._ 'I can't keep holding out on my job just because I can't work with the my…the people I had gotten used to. I'm still here, and I have work that needs to be done.'_

When he arrived at his office, he saw that his secretary, Becky, had left for lunch. On her desk was a note for him asking him to let her know about any other tasks that he needed her to do that day.

Sweets stared at the noted for a couple of moments, tracing his finger along the letters. Over the past three months, Becky had been a godsend. She helped him keep his appointments straight while managing to keep track of his numerous work projects. He knew that there had been little chance that he could have done it himself these days, and the fact that on top of all that, she seemed genuinely concerned about his welfare did bring some cheer to his world.

He glanced over toward his office. Despite his warm feelings about his secretary's loyalty, he found himself unable to feel anything other than disgust about work or anything related to it.

The therapist scribbled a brief note back, letting Becky know that he had nothing else for her that day, before heading out of the Hoover Building, not caring that he was leaving his briefcase and a bunch of work that he needed to attend to behind.

Right now, all he wanted was a tall drink and the chance to talk, and as he got into his car, a destination suddenly occurred to him.

* * *

><p>"Doctor Sweets, what a pleasant surprise," Wyatt said as he watched the psychologist walk into his kitchen. "Might I offer you a chance to enjoy a meal and a drink here at chef's table?"<p>

Sweets smiled in spite of his dark mood as he watched the staff clear a table for him to sit at. The former psychiatrist always greeted people in a way that made one feel like a welcome guest. What was equally heartening for Sweets though was the fact that he knew that Wyatt, more than anyone else he had really gotten to know over the past few years, understood the ups, downs, rewards and pressures that he faced within his profession. When he talked with the chef, he felt complete confidence that he would be understood: a rare feeling that he had not experience very often ever since his parents had passed away.

As expected, the chef prepared a sumptuous meal that they were eventually able to enjoy together, and which ended with a shared bottle of wine. Throughout dinner, they mainly stuck to casual topics for conversation, but as the wine was poured, Sweets could detect an implicit "nudging" from Wyatt to shift to something else.

"Tell me, Doctor Sweets," the chef said after a long sip of wine. "How have you been adjusting to all of the changes in your life of late?"

"Me? Fine," Sweets answered. "I mean, I really haven't had time to worry too much about it."

"Yes," Wyatt nodded, his expression neutral, but knowing. "Your research, your work with Quantico and all that. You've been very busy here of late. Speaking of work, what is the latest status on your book? Have you finally decided to publish?"

"I…I decided that it was best that I discard it," Sweets said, looking down into his glass of wine. "You were right. Too many of my conclusions were in error and publishing it would have been detrimental to my fri—my subjects."

"I see," Wyatt replied. "Although I question the methods which you might have used to reach this decision, I believe it may turn out for the best. At any rate, I am certain that you can use the time spent as a valuable learning experience."

"Oh sure," Sweets scoffed. "I learned." The chef raised an eyebrow at the therapist's tone and leaned toward him.

"Perhaps you can share what is on your mind," he said. "Since I assume that this is more than a social call." He then watched as Sweets took a large gulp of wine, fidgeting in his chair as he did so.

"I think," Sweets stuttered. "I guess you could say that I'm having a sort of…professional crisis."

"Please elaborate," Wyatt replied.

The words gushed out of Sweets as he explained the destruction of his manuscript, his vague difficulties at performing his work duties, and his fruitless struggle to embark on some research of his own.

Wyatt listened quietly but attentively to this narrative, and Sweets could not deny that he was cathartic to finally vocalize many of the things that had been weighing on his heart. Once the psychologist was finished, Wyatt poured each of them another glass of wine before sitting up and placing his forearms onto the table.

"Doctor Sweets, have you reached any conclusions on your own as to what might be causing your professional ennui, as it were?" he asked. Sweets let out a deep sigh.

"I…I've been questioning the path I have chosen professionally," he responded. "While it's true that I still feel able to perform my counseling duties well enough, I…I'm unsure of my ability to be much use to the Bureau in criminal investigations. I also believe that…I don't have much more that I can contribute to the field of psychology itself."

"I see," Wyatt repeated. "But have you considered the possibility that your current distress have absolutely nothing to do with your professional capabilities or the work itself?"

"Not the work?" Sweets spluttered. "But what else could it be? Unless…unless maybe it's me, on a fundamental level. Maybe I'm not really cut out for working for the FBI and should move into private practice…or maybe onto something else altogether. Is that you're saying? That maybe…maybe there's no "deeper calling" in me after all?"

Wyatt frowned as the questions came pouring out of Sweets. He hated seeing the young man in front of him so depressed and doubtful of himself and was determined to put as many of Sweets' fears and doubts to rest as possible.

"When I told you that I sensed a deeper calling in you, I was not making that judgment from superficial trappings like your official position and title," Wyatt said, his voice gentle but firm. "It was culled from what radiated from your words, written and spoken, from your actions, your insights and your understanding and compassion that you demonstrated for your fellow man that you consistently displayed. And my belief in its existence within you has not wavered. No, I do not think that the root of your current troubles lie in the vocation you have chosen for yourself."

The chef then leaned closer to Sweets, his blue eyes focused on the chocolate ones across from him. In that moment, Sweets felt the eerie sensation that, for once, someone was getting inside his head as opposed to the other way around.

"I believe that you have not truly confronted the fact that you have suffered tremendous losses in your personal life," Wyatt continued. "Thus, your only outlet has been an assault on your professional pursuits."

"I…I just…" Sweets stammered before looking away.

"It's stupid," he blurted out. "Stupid and selfish. I mean, Angela and Hodgins just got married. Shouldn't they be able to enjoy a romantic and glorious honeymoon together?"

"Yes, all while you had to face the loss of your own fiancé and engagement," Wyatt countered. "All without their support. Isn't that true as well?"

"And Daisy…she's worked hard her whole life to get an opportunity like this," Sweets said, his eyes becoming watery. "She doesn't deserve to have me holding her back."

"Holding her back?" Wyatt repeated. "You mean by offering her your heart and your devotion in exchange for her hand and the promise of a life with you?"

"But I…And Booth, Brennan and Cam," Sweets gasped out. "They're doing important things. Things that no one else could do. Things that could save lives or even change our perception of the history of human existence."

"All while leaving you here alone to pick up the pieces of a life that you were happy and fulfilled in," Wyatt added. "A life you so desperately needed and wanted after the turmoil you faced when you lost your parents, your family, not too long ago." The chef tried again to catch Sweets' gaze.

"Doctor Sweets, you of all people should know that you are perfectly within your rights to be feeling many things right now," he said. "Anger at your loved ones, confusion over your recent upheaval, grief over what you have lost. All of this and more is to be expected. Did you think that I would tell you otherwise?"

Sweets let his head droop even more as the lump in his throat grew. Truthfully, he had expected just that: for Wyatt to attempt to shake him out of his gloom by telling him how misguided his feelings were. He had been shocked that the chef responded this way instead and was now terrified that the emotions he had managed to lock away would start to overwhelm him again.

Seeing how overcome Sweets was, Wyatt moved his chair closer and did his best to regain eye contact.

"I know that this will be no easy thing for you," Wyatt continued. "But you must deal with these losses in order to move forward, both personally and professionally. As long as they are not dealt with, they will plague your every move."

Sweets swallowed hard, finally looking up, and the chef smiled in response.

"Might I suggest a possible step to help you embark onto this path?" he asked. "I believe that what you need is a chance to "step outside yourself" as it were."

"Step outside myself?" Sweets echoed.

"Yes," Wyatt nodded. "Try to find ways to move outside your professional concerns. Consider doing a favor for a friend and focusing more on them rather than your own need. Or perhaps pursue some sort of work that gives you a chance to immerse yourself into the service of others rather than acting as a means to advance your expertise. Or…you might even consider taking a leave of absence of your own so that you can concentrate on other aspects of your life that you have been neglecting."

"Abandon my work?" Sweets gasped. "But…but I've done so little. There's so much more that I could be…."

"Perhaps, but do not forget that you are young," Wyatt interjected. "There will be plenty of time for you to accomplish all that I am certain that you will achieve. In the meantime, try to allow yourself to live life and pursue your own happiness. I believe that you will find no better cure for what ails you."

* * *

><p>Sweets ended up staying at Wyatt's restaurant for a while more before giving the chef his heartfelt thanks and farewells. Afterwards Wyatt attended to his kitchen while pondering the conversation he had just had.<p>

He hoped that the psychologist would heed his advice, but Wyatt knew that it would not be easy for Sweets in the least. He suspected that, even if he did decide to follow his suggestions, it would not be a straight-forward path and would, more than likely, still hold much sorrow.

The former psychiatrist let out a sigh of his own as he wandered around his restaurant. He had left the field of psychiatry partially because he wanted to avoid this feeling of concern and helplessness as he waited to see if things turned out for the best for those who sought his council. Despite that, he could not bring himself to regret his decision to continue tending to Sweets, Booth and everyone else connected to the remarkable, tight-knit group that he had discovered.

For now though, all Wyatt could do was offer his wisdom and hope that Sweets was strong enough to see his way through the dark interludes his life had entered.


	8. Month Three, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. I am a little nervous about this one, but I hope it works out. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I do think that it's part of the way that Sweets tries to cope with things in his life: by burying himself in work or by ignoring his own heart. Unfortunately it's not something that can go on forever, as Wyatt pointed out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next update.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I agree that more of Wyatt is always a good thing within the Bones universe and thus, I love bringing him into it in my fics. :) I also agree that Wyatt seems to have won Sweets' trust, given how Wyatt has probed into Sweets' heart and mind on more than one occasion now and how Sweets seems to be ok with it. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**D: **I know what you mean, I'm always happy to see Wyatt too. :) And yeah, I wanted to throw that last bit in because it seems like there was a lot to Wyatt's decision to leave psychiatry...and the show didn't go too much into that...And as you will see in this chapter, we are about to get yet another perspective...

Month Three—part 2

Two days after his talk with Wyatt, Sweets decided to take his first step in "stepping outside himself" by fulfilling a promise he made to Booth.

Yesterday he had called Rebecca to see if he could come by at some point for dinner, and she ended up inviting him to come over the next day.

"_Sure, Doctor Sweets," _she had said warmly. "_Seeley mentioned that you would eventually be calling. Feel free to have dinner with us tomorrow evening."_

Sweets had been surprised at how easy it had been for him to secure an invitation and began to wonder why.

'_Perhaps Booth was acting even more concerned about Parker with Rebecca than he was with me,' _he mused. '_Or maybe she also has some concerns of her own. Or maybe it's a mixture of both.'_

No matter how he looked at it, Sweets felt even more determined to do whatever he could to both ameliorate their concerns and to assist Parker with whatever distress he might be feeling at his father's absence.

* * *

><p>That evening, Sweets showed up for dinner at Rebecca's house. Her current significant other was out of town visiting family, so it would just be the two of them and Parker eating together. The psychologist had stayed mostly silent during the meal as he listened to Rebecca and Parker talk about current events in their lives and more topical subjects in general. After they were finished eating, the three of them cleared the table, and Rebecca offered to do the dishes.<p>

"Parker, why don't you show Doctor Sweets the new games that your father got you for your Xbox," she said. "I'm sure he'll enjoy that." Parker nodded in response, and Sweets couldn't help but cringe inwardly as Parker guided him to the front room.

'_What has Booth been telling them about me?' _he wondered. He tried his best though to quickly shrug off any possible indignation as he sat down on the couch, and Parker inserted a game into his Xbox. He then sat down beside the therapist and handed him a game controller. After Parker explained the basic premise of the game to him, the two of them played in silence for a few minutes before Sweets spoke again.

"How are things at school?" he asked.

"Fine, I guess," Parker shrugged. "Do you know how to make a volcano?"

Sweets was momentarily distracted by his question and was then dismayed at how Parker was able to lop off a massive number of his game character's hit points.

"Um no," the psychologist mumbled as he tried to salvage his standing in the game. "Why?"

"Our school has a science fair coming up, and I have to do a project for it," Parker answered as he deftly manipulated the buttons on his controller. "I was wanting to make a volcano. Dad said that he knew how to make one, but…you know…he can't show me how right now."

"I could try to help you," the therapist offered. "I might not know right now how to do it, but I can look it up and then we could…."

"That's ok, Doctor Sweets," Parker said, cutting him off. "I know how to make the volcano itself. I even made some little huts and got some plastic animals to sit at the foot of it…I just don't know how to make it erupt. But I should wait until Dad gets home so that he can show me. I'll just have to come up with something else."

Sweets nodded again and the two of them went back to playing quietly for a little while until Sweets found his character at the receiving end of yet another skillful attack by Parker's, ending that portion of the game.

"Careful, you've only got one life left," Parker informed him. Sweets shook his head. A part of him couldn't help but be amazed at how much his gaming skills had atrophied in the last year or so.

"Did Dad ask you to come over to dinner?" Parker suddenly asked. Sweets was slightly shaken by the question and wondered for a second how he should answer it. He then decided, however that an honest, straight-forward approach would be the best course for this conversation.

"Yeah he did," the psychologist said. "He wanted to know how you were doing."

"But I already told him the last time when we had that video chat on the computer," Parker said, rolling his eyes a little. Sweets paused for a moment and considered his words before replying.

"Sometimes people don't tell their parents everything," Sweets said.

"Did you tell your parents everything?" Parker asked.

"No," the therapist replied somberly. "No I didn't."

"Even if they asked you stuff more than once?" Parker inquired. Sweets shook his head. "Why?"

"Because sometimes…some things were just too hard to say," Sweets said. "Or sometimes I didn't want to say something because I knew that they might worry or hover around me. I know that my parents did that because they love me…but that didn't mean that I wanted to deal with all that all the time."

Parker nodded and was quiet for a moment before a large grin suddenly appeared on his face. He then mashed the buttons on his controller in a quick succession which resulted in him killing off Sweets' character.

"That was your last life," Parker said, the thrill of victory evident in his tone.

"Yeah, you destroyed me," Sweets said ruefully.

"It's ok," Parker assured him. "Dad sometimes beats me too."

The therapist glanced over his way as the "game over" screen appeared on the television. He could hear the longing in Parker's tone and imagined that Parker was missing his father right now, but Sweets also figured that there was no need to state that out loud.

"Are you going to tell my parents about the stuff that I tell you?" Parker asked.

"Nope," Sweets said, shaking his head. "Your parents just want to know how you're doing. They don't have to hear about any of the stuff you tell me." Parker nodded again and reset the game so that they could play again.

"Mom's all freaked out just because I failed a dumb math test," he sighed. "She keeps telling me that I need to concentrate in class more. She doesn't get what it's like to sit in front of Greg Tasher."

"A real pain, huh?" Sweets asked sympathetically.

"He's always making these weird noises while I'm trying to listen to the teacher," Parker complained. "And then while we are taking a test, he talks to himself. The teacher never notices 'cause we sit all the way in the back."

"You could your teacher to change your seat," Sweets suggested.

"But then she'd probably put me in the front row next to Todd Messinger," Parker frowned before lobbing another assault toward Sweets' character. The psychologist winced when he saw the resulting damage.

"Did Dad go back to the Army because of what I said?" Parker asked, his tone serious. Sweets paused the game even though he was certain that he was just delaying the inevitable.

"What did you say to him?" Sweets asked. Parker then relayed as much as he could remember about the conversation he and his dad had had in the car about the phone call from the Army and the idea about whether or not his father should re-join to help out or not.

"I mean…he didn't just do it because of what I said, did he?" Parker asked again at the end of his story. Sweets gave him a sincere but serious smile.

"Parker, I believe that your dad went back because he believed that it was the right thing to do," Sweets told him. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision for him to make, because he has many responsibilities and people to consider. But in the end, it was his decision alone. It is possible that you said some things that he hadn't thought about yet while making his decision, but it is no way solely your fault that he's not here right now."

Parker shrugged again and hit the pause button so that they could resume their game. He didn't say anymore about it, but Sweets hoped that he had found the right words to say to him.

Before long, Parker had beaten him again, this time with an even more humiliating score than in the last game.

"You're not very good at this, Doctor Sweets," Parker smirked.

"You can call me Lance, if you want," Sweets said. "And no, you're right. I'm not very good at this one at all."

"I could show you how to play it," Parker offered.

"Tell you what," Sweets said. "You show me how to play this game so that I don't get destroyed every single time, and I'll try to give you some tips to help you deal with Greg Tasher. Deal?"

"Deal," Parker grinned and the two of them shook on it.

"You can be pretty cool," Parker continued. "My dad was saying that you always talk a lot and ask a bunch of questions, and that it sometimes drives him up a wall…..but I don't think that I was supposed to tell you that." Parker's face became contrite, but Sweets simply laughed.

"That's ok," the therapist told him. "Remember, he doesn't need to know what we talked about. That can just be between us."

"Cool, thanks," Parker grinned again. "You know…Dad also said that you're a really smart guy…So maybe…if I need any help with my science project…."

"Just let me know," Sweets smiled back at him. The psychologist suddenly missed Booth yet again, but right now he was also pleased that he would be able to put any fears that the agent might have to rest.

"Ok," Parker said as he re-started the game again. "You gotta make sure to be careful during this first part or you'll die in no time later on…."

Sweets listened attentively as he played along to Parker's instructions. They ended up spending the next two hours playing and talking about the game along with a variety of other matters.

It ended being the most fun Sweets had had in these last few months, and as much as he remembered that he was supposed to be doing Booth a favor, Sweets couldn't help but feel that Booth had done him a favor as well.

* * *

><p>That same evening, over at the Hoover Building, Agent Warner looked over the assignment roster that he had just finished with satisfaction. He had lined up some cases for Sweets to work on and had planned to encourage the lead agents involved with each one to feel free to ask for the psychologist's help with any interrogations or interviews that need to be done.<p>

'_He may not like it, but it needs to be done,' _Warner thought to himself. '_Doctor Sweets cannot continue to live in the past.'_

Warner sat the papers he was holding down and leaned back in his chair. When had first met Sweets, he had been more than a little dubious about the idea of giving someone so young the twin responsibilities of treating agents and helping out in investigation. Over time, however, Sweets slowly gained his respect through both his hard work and his successes. Warner had been pleased when the crime fighting unit that Sweets had joined continued to close cases, and thus he had allowed the therapist a lot of latitude when it came to how Sweets used his time at work.

'_Maybe that's part of the problem'_ he pondered. '_Maybe I've been giving him a little too much latitude…Well no point in dwelling on past mistakes. Doctor Sweets will just have to adjust to the way things are going to be from now on.'_

He was about to move on to his next chore when a knock at the door caught his attention. He was about to give whoever it was permission to enter when the door opened and Deputy Director Andrew Hacker walked into the room.

"Sir," Warner said. "I wasn't expecting…."

"Calm down, Agent Warner," Hacker smiled at him. "This isn't an official meeting. I just needed to check in on something with you." Hacker then sat down onto a chair across from Warner and crossed one leg over the other.

"I hear that there have been some issues regarding Doctor Sweets of late," Hacker said. "More specifically problems regarding his work duties."

"Nothing major, sir," Warner assured him. "Just a miscommunication about expectations. I'm taking care of it."

"Yes, well, you might want to take care of it a little less," Hacker replied.

"Sir?"

"Go ahead and give him a couple of assignments, some light work to keep him busy and in practice," the deputy director continued. "But make sure to keep his schedule flexible and his workload open to change in case something else comes up."

"Sir, may I ask why?" Warner said. "It was my impression that he had pretty much finished the majority of his work for Quantico."

"That could change at any time," Hacker said. "And if it does, we don't want to push Doctor Sweets too hard. It could lead to burnout."

Warner sat in shock for a few seconds over what Hacker was telling him, but then he started to think about who he was dealing with. He knew that Hacker's suggestions should be taken as orders, despite the casual way that they were delivered and he was puzzled at why Hacker was interested in all this.

Then a new thought came to him.

"Is it really that, sir?" Warner asked. "Or could it be that you're worried that Doctor Sweets will consider leaving the Bureau now that Agent Booth and the rest of the Jeffersonian unit have left DC? Perhaps to go into private practice?"

"Agent Booth is not going to stay in the Army forever," Hacker replied. "And it's my understanding that it's more than likely that the Jeffersonian staff will return within a few months to resume their duties."

"And you want to make sure that Doctor Sweets is still available to be a part of that team," Warner added. "Because their success can be used to enhance your position within the Bureau."

"Wonderful, we understand each other," Hacker grinned as he stood up to leave. "Well that is all that I needed to talk about. I am sure that you will be prudent in how you handle Doctor Sweets' working environment from now on. Good evening, Agent Warner."

Hacker then exited the room, leaving Warner to sigh as he looked down at the roster he had created. A part of him was indignant at having political maneuvers affect how he handled those he directly supervised, but he had been with the Bureau long enough and had seen this sort of thing enough times to know that one needed to pick his or her battles very carefully. This did not even remotely seem like a battle worth getting into and thus, the agent began to make plans to cut down on the number of cases that Sweets would be involved with. As he made his adjustments, he managed to let go of any possible resentment.

In the end, he just hoped that Hacker was right in thinking that all it would take was tactics like these in order to prevent Sweets from leaving if the psychologist ever started to contemplate that option.


	9. Month Four, part 1

Author's Note: Next chapter. Again, sorry about the slow updates, but I hope to keep working more steadily on open projects for a while.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. Sweets always did strike me as a bit of a workaholic, so it made sense to me that he would find work a welcome escape...I had never written anything in it with Parker before, but ever since The Finger in the Nest, I've been thinking about how much fun a scene with him and Sweets could be. So thank you for that too. I hope you enjoy this update as well...with yet another character I have never worked with before. ;)

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I actually agree with you about Hacker. I thought he was a charming sort of the slimy political type and thus always enjoyed having him around. :) But given how things are going these days, I doubt we will see him again any time soon. A shame I agree. As for this chapter, you are finally getting a request that you have had of me for a while come true...:)

**D: **Agreed. I think Hacker is fun, but he always did strike me as the type who looks out for himself, first and foremost. Despite that, I kind of miss him, but hey, he can always live on in fanfic. :)

Month Four—part 1

"You've been spending an increased amount of time here, Doctor Sweets," Zack said as he sat across from the psychologist at a table in the visitor's room. "There is a patient who sometimes eats lunch with me who mentioned that you've been discussing Shakespeare with him."

"Ah," Sweets nodded. "You mean Sir Laurence Olivier."

"That's not who he actually is," Zack replied. "According to some of the orderlies here, his name is Jeffery Taylor, and he's been living here for fifteen years."

"Right, much like how the Master was actually that and thus it was logical to follow his bidding and aid him in the Gormogon murders," Sweets sighed.

"I don't see how that is an accurate analogy," Zack said. "The man I knew as the Master was indeed the leader of his exclusive sect of this cult. Jeffery Taylor is not actually the actor Laurence Olivier." Sweets smiled and nodded his head.

"I suppose when you look at it that way, you have a point," he conceded.

"Hodgins has been sending me postcards from Paris," Zack continued. "He and Angela appear to be very happy on their honeymoon there. I have deduced, however, that something is on Hodgins' mind which is distracting him."

"Distracting?" Sweets asked.

"Yes," Zack replied. "He inverted the order of a pair of signs in the latest problem that he sent me to work on. That is uncharacteristic of him."

Sweets leaned back in his chair and nodded again. He was certain that the entomologist had plenty to distract him these days. The therapist suddenly felt a rush of jealousy at the idea of other people having the chance to find happiness with the people they love, but he did his best to suppress it.

"Have you heard from anyone else?" Sweets asked.

"I have not heard from Doctor Brennan since she embarked on her journey to Maluku," Zack said. "I believe that her work there is consuming most of her time. The project she is involved in could be of great importance to our field."

Sweets felt a soft ache of regret at Zack's choice of words. He often suspected that, somewhere in the back of his mind, Zack still thought of himself as a forensic anthropologist in the same vein as his mentor and friend Brennan, and that that would never change. But for now, the psychologist chose to keep such thoughts to himself.

"I have not heard from Agent Booth either," Zack added. "Doctor Saroyan stopped by recently. She told me that she had been transferred to another office and that the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian had been shut down indefinitely. That is unfortunate."

The therapist gulped, but did his best to hide it. He hadn't actually spoken to Cam for the last two months due to his being so thoroughly immersed in his work. As a result, Zack's announcement came as a shock to him. He tried to not place too much significance onto this development, but the more he thought about it, the more persistent the pressure on his heart became.

'_That's one less thing,' _he told himself. '_One less thing to bring them back. One less thing that could eventually make things the way they were before.'_

'_One less thing to give me any sort of hope.'_

"Is something wrong, Doctor Sweets?" Zack asked.

Sweets grunted and shook his head. Ever since the others had left DC almost four months ago, he had tried to convince himself to move on from the life he had with them. Sometimes, like in the past three weeks, he thought that he had succeeded. He would find a tolerable and perhaps somewhat comfortable routine, and he would begin to believe that he was finally starting to settle into a new life.

It was always jarring for him when moments like this proved just how wrong that assumption was.

"Doctor Sweets?"

"I'm fine, Zack," Sweets said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised to hear the news."

"You should try meeting up with Doctor Saroyan," Zack suggested. "Despite being busy herself with her job and her research into brain damage in war veterans, she seems to be able to keep track of everyone else's activities."

Sweets could not stop himself from letting out something between a laugh and a sigh at that. He thought about how easy it would be to ponder the irony that Zack, who was stuck in this institution, knew more about what was going on with his former co-workers than he did. But then he decided that dwelling on it could drive him to want to join Zack here.

"Thank you, Zack, I'll think about doing that," he said. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss before we finish up here?"

"Could you talk to my current psychiatrist here, Doctor Johansen, about finding an alternative to the art therapy sessions he currently has me enrolled in?" Zack said. "First of all, I am unsure of how drawing the things I see around me every single day is supposed to help me address any personal issues that I might have. Also, I theorize that it is not their intention, but considering the current level of function that I have in my hands, it seems malicious to repeatedly ask me to try to craft objects with artistic merit."

"I'll talk to him," Sweets assured him with a smile. "There are plenty of alternatives that you could be involved in."

"Thank you," Zack said. Sweets then leaned toward him and placed his hands and forearms onto the table before going over a couple of questions that he wanted Zack to contemplate until the next time that they saw each other.

After he was finished, Sweets slowly strolled down the hallway out toward the garden area.

Ever since Zack had been incarcerated here, Sweets had been treating him in conjunction with the psychiatrists on staff. Zack's case had been as far as possible from a straightforward or easy one, and there had been a couple of times when Sweets had been tempted to give up. Any time he considered that, however, he was reminded of the realization he had some time ago that he was really the only therapist that Zack seemed to trust. That thought always prevented Sweets from taking that final step and thus he persisted in his treatment.

The psychologist walked outside and a couple of the orderlies nodded at him as he walked by. Warner had been giving him some profiling assignments to work on here and there, and Sweets found that it had been easier than he thought it would be to return to this kind of work. But the sporadic assignments and the currently slow pace of his practice made it so that he had more time than usual to fill.

During his usual visits to Zack, however, Sweets was hit with the inspiration to do some research on the criminally insane criminals housed at this institution by doing extensive case studies on them in the hopes of finding commonalities and new approaches in dealing with them. He submitted his idea to both his superiors in DC and to his contacts at Quantico and they both approved the project. As a result, nowadays Sweets spent almost as much time here as he did at his office at the Hoover Building.

Sweets squinted at the sunlight and inhaled deeply so he could take in the scents of the flowers all around him. After almost four months of near isolation from the world, the therapist could not deny that it was nice to spend time outside and with people…even if it was outside a mental facility and with clinically insane people.

"Ah, Lance, how are you today?"

Sweets looked over to see a man in a maroon-colored robe with black pajamas sitting on a bench nearby. The psychologist grinned and went over to sit down beside him.

"I am well, thank Sir Olivier," he said. "And how are you feeling?"

"Please, no need to be so formal," the man replied. "Laurence is just fine, thank you. And I am also well, thank you."

"That's good," Sweets said to Olivier aka Jeffery Taylor. "And how was group therapy today?"

"Not very good, I'm afraid," Taylor sighed. "It appears as if we now have someone in the group who fancies himself a theater critic. This odious man had the audacity to criticize my performance as Heathcliff in _Wuthering Heights_. Doesn't he realize that that was one of my finest performances?"

"Well there is the old saying that everyone's a critic," Sweets offered. "Some people just are not that good at it. Perhaps this person does not have an appreciation for the classics."

"I suppose that is possible," Taylor said, shaking his head. "Such is the bane of young people today. And that is why it is always a pleasure to converse with you, Lance."

Sweets smiled and wasn't able to stop himself from blushing a little. He had met Taylor during one of his visits with Zack some time ago, and now that he was spending so much extra time there, the psychologist had begun to develop a rapport with him. Whenever he had spare time after his interviews with Zack or with the criminals he was interviewing for his case studies, he would see if he could spend some time with Taylor either in the recreation room or out here in the gardens. A couple of times, he had even joined Taylor for afternoon tea.

"Speaking of which, my boy, you are looking a bit peaked right now," Taylor said. "Are you getting enough fresh air and sunshine? A daily constitutional is good for the mind and body, you know. I take one myself every morning."

Sweets shrugged. He had talked to a couple of the doctors and orderlies about Taylor. Apparently he had been admitted by his daughter over fifteen years ago after the man had lost his wife of twenty-five years. Not long after becoming a widow, Taylor began to live in this fantasy of being the actor Laurence Olivier and sadly, there had been little in the way of progress in the entire time that he had been here. Sweets suspected though that part of it was because Taylor could not bear to return to a reality where his wife was gone and his daughter did not care about him anymore.

"Lance, is anything the matter?"

"No, no," Sweets replied. "It's just…I was talking to someone who I used to work with and…I realized that a lot had changed in my life recently. Things and people who I used to think would remain a constant no longer are. And even though I've long understood that life is about change, I suppose that I just didn't want to believe that these things would change." Taylor reached over and patted his knee.

"Ah Lance, that is one of the great misfortunes of man's existence," he said. "We thrive on change and yet it frequently breaks our hearts. So then the question becomes, how does the heart bear this burden? Sadly, there seems to be no clear answer to this question. We simply must have faith that the heart will continue to surmount whatever life presents to it."

Soon an orderly walked over and gave Taylor a beckoning look. Taylor nodded back and stood up, smoothing out his robe as he did.

"And now I must excuse myself," he said. "Apparently I need to take some kind of pill and then it's back to practicing my lines. That temperamental director that the studio got for this film is not going to wait forever for me to perfect my part. Until we see each other again then."

"Yes, good bye," Sweets said. "I'll try to see you in a couple of days."

Taylor responded with a slight bow and walked away with the orderly. Sweets watched them leave before turning his attention back toward the garden itself. He thought again about what Zack had said and what Taylor had told him and shook his head. It was a worrying trend that patients in a psychiatric institution now felt the need to give him advice and solace, and he wondered just how much others could see of his wounded heart and soul.


	10. Month Four, part 2

Author's Note: Yes, an update to this one at last. :) At this point, I am thinking that I will be only taking a couple of my projects out of hiatus at a time, but we will see...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for the review and your comments about my work with Zack. I doubt myself at this point that we will see much more of him on the show, but I do wish that the writers would give some more resolution to his story. Also, I am very relieved that you found my portrayal of him, and the way that the team still interacts with him, realistic. His was a character that always made me a bit nervous to write for, so I am glad that it is working out thus far. I can safely say though that he will appear at least one more time in this fic. :) Also glad that you liked "Sir Olivier" :D I am a big fan of classic film and for some reason the idea of someone trying to emulate him and his life really appeals to me...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. :) I agree that I can easily picture Sweets continuing to treat Zack even though we aren't given much info about that in canon. I, too, wish that that would get resolved someday...And yes, given how we have seen Sweets interact with insane patients and suspects in the past, it made sense to me that he would be so congenial to "Sir Olivier"...I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**Whirlwind421: **Well you can stop wondering if I am going to update this one. :) I sort of hate that so little was mentioned about Sweets' life during those missing seven months between seasons five and six, especially since it was clear that a lot had happened (what with his wearing hats, going on sabbatical and playing piano in bars). Thus why it felt like an ideal subject for a fanfic. As to your wish for more scenes between him and Cam...ask and ye shall receive. :D

Month Four—part 2

Sweets sipped at his second coffee of the day and, for once, he was actually glad that he had gotten a late start.

Lately, the therapist had found sleep difficult to come by and many nights were spent staring at the ceiling or at the window in his bedroom in a futile attempt to will himself into slumber. When sleep finally did come, it was only for a few dreamless hours that would be abruptly broken by the alarm clock the next day. As a result, Sweets was forced to turn the volume on his alarm clock up higher and higher in order to make sure that he would actually wake up when he needed to.

That morning, however, not even a blaring alarm could rouse him out of his exhausted state, and he ended up sleeping in. When he finally did wake up, he was mortified to discover what time it was and had scrambled to get ready and had rushed over to the Hoover Building. Despite his efforts, he was two hours late for work, and as he walked toward his office, the psychologist remembered that he was supposed to have a meeting with Warner over thirty minutes ago. His shoulders drooping, he decided to go ahead and face his superior first thing before trying to get through the rest of the day.

Warner had been somewhat understanding, given that Sweets had so rarely been late for anything in the past. Still, it wasn't enough to stop the agent from admonishing him.

"_Doctor Sweets, you have been given a great deal of latitude when it comes to your activities at work and your schedule. So, I expect you to make sure to fulfill the few commitments you still have and that includes your weekly reports to me. Is that understood?"_

Even though the words had stung, Sweets had to admit that Warner was right. He had been given a lot of leeway these last few months.

'_Most people probably wouldn't still have a job if they had taken the approach I have to work here recently,' _he pondered. '_I should be grateful that the Bureau is so invested in holding on to me and my work.'_

With those thoughts came a rush of guilt, a feeling he had had many times for these last four months. This time though, the guilt refused to be rationalized away.

'_Some "asset to the Bureau" I am. I hardly see any patients, and I haven't profiled any cases in weeks. All I have is the research I am doing and some occasional reports for Quantico.'_

'_I wonder if the Bureau ever regrets hiring me.'_

That thought sat at the pit of his stomach, turning it sour. Even though it would mean skipping his normal visit to the psychiatric institute to interview patients and visit with Taylor, the therapist decided that it would be best for him to stay at the Hoover Building and concentrate on his duties there for the day. He ended up getting bogged down by stacks of paperwork, but plowing through them did take some of the edge off his guilt, even though it also depressed him.

Sweets' mood had sunk to an extreme low by the time he took a break to get some coffee. Once he got back to his desk, however, he discovered two new emails in his inbox, both of which he would have missed if he had followed his normal routine of late.

And both of which managed to give him some relief from the gloom that was oppressing him.

The first one was from Booth. He had thanked Sweets, albeit indirectly, for spending time with Parker and then caught the therapist up on his latest activities in the unit he was working with. Sweets smiled for the first time in a couple of days as he read the agent's email to him. Honestly, he hadn't expected Booth to keep in contact with him after he left, so every email from the agent had the ability to surprise and cheer him up.

"_Still haven't heard from Bones. But she's probably too busy piecing together inter-species skeletons or something to bother writing anyone. At least…I hope it's just work that has her occupied. I mean, I'm sure she's ignoring everyone and not just me, right? You know Bones. If someone didn't remind her to eat and sleep once in a while, she'd work nonstop. Yeah, I am sure that's all it is."_

Sweets shook his head and felt his eyes sting. Despite the attempts for bravado on Booth's part, the therapist could see the hurt behind the agent's words as well as the refusal to believe in any alternate explanations. As he scrubbed his eyes, he thought about how Booth had told him about the night he had confronted Brennan with his feelings and the disastrous results along with his intention to move on. Sweets had had his doubts then that it would be that easy, but did not confess them aloud. Even though he was convinced that the agent would not truly be happy with anyone else other than Brennan, Sweets wanted to support his friend as much as he could.

True to his word, Booth certainly did try to move on after that night. The brief fling with Doctor Catherine Bryar was proof of that. But as much as Sweets enjoyed seeing Booth make an effort to find happiness elsewhere, he knew that the relationship wouldn't last. That assumption was proven right when Booth eventually stopped mentioning Bryar and then when he took off for Afghanistan.

'_Did Booth see the same thing I did between him and Bryar between me and Daisy? Is that why he never seemed to approve of her, even when he still gave me advice on how to handle my relationship with her?'_

The psychologist sniffed hard and chided himself for letting his thoughts drift back to Daisy yet again. He knew that this was not the time to focus on his own problems. It was time to think of Booth and the best ways to help him.

He carefully read through the rest of the email and then read it a second time before starting to compose a reply. Almost an hour later, he hit the 'send' button, and Sweets hoped that he had been able to bring a tiny bit of solace into the agent's life.

He then spotted the other new email and was equally surprised by its sender: Doctor Camille Saroyan. Sweets opened it and was greeted with a brief note asking how he was doing along with an invitation for lunch tomorrow.

Sweets hesitated. Truthfully, he longed to see her and to relish a couple of hours of the old camaraderie he had been missing. But he also felt nervous about meeting up with her.

'_Would she see how much I needed to see her and think I was needy? Needy and unable to live my own life?'_

Sweets cursed inwardly. He had tried to make an effort to keep in contact with Cam via emails and the very occasional phone call, but he knew that wasn't the same as actual time spent in each other's company. Once in a while, she would ask to meet, and only rarely would he agree to it, often citing too much work as a way to back out. Thus, he continued to be astounded that she would still ask.

'_She is still trying to be my friend….but I am not a very good friend to have,' _he thought glumly.

The psychologist pushed these thoughts aside as best he could as he tapped out a response on his keyboard, suggesting a time to meet at the Royal Diner. It had been weeks since he had eaten there. In fact, the last time he had gone was during the last lunch he had shared with Cam. A part of him looked forward to the chance to enjoy some good food and even better company.

Another part of him was worried about what to say when he saw her.

The next afternoon, Sweets slowly ate his burger and fries while waiting for Cam. The pathologist was almost thirty minutes late by this point and had sent him a text encouraging him to start without her. Sweets had thought about waiting, but a rumble from his stomach put an end to that idea.

He had just finished his burger and was picking at his fries when Cam walked in, her pace brisk and her face contrite.

"Sorry, sorry," she said as she slid into a chair across from him. "I had forgotten that construction had started on that side of town this morning, and it's been a while since I've had to wing it in DC traffic."

"It's all right," Sweets smiled at her. "It's not like I have pressing work right now. My schedule is pretty light these days."

"Yes, Zack told me that you had been spending more time at the institution when I visited him recently," she said as she picked up a menu. "What is going on there?"

Sweets explained the research he was conducting while she ordered a salad and while they waited for it to arrive. He finished up just as the waitress sat Cam's plate in front of her.

"Well it sounds like you've managed to keep busy," she nodded as she added some dressing to her salad. "And what about outside of work?"

"Outside of it?"

"Yes, you know the things you do after work hours," Cam smiled at him. "Don't tell me that you're still burying yourself with work."

"It has been taking up a lot of my time," Sweets confessed. "I'm sure you know what I mean since you have research of your own. By the way, how is that going?"

A look of concern made its way to Cam's face, and the therapist could sense that she had seen through the deflection. Still, Cam went on to tell him about some of the interviews she had had and about her latest findings. It had been an intriguing conversation for both of them since it was rare for the two of them to share so much common ground within their fields of discipline during normal work activities.

"I am hoping to publish my findings before too long," Cam added. "Despite some people's misgivings about it."

"Misgivings?" Sweets asked. The psychologist picked up a fry while Cam stabbed at her salad a couple of times before continuing.

"There are people, people in the government and people in the military who would probably prefer that I keep my findings to myself," she said. "The status quo is an ironclad routine in some circles and there are those who might see my work as a possible threat to that status quo. I suppose that there might even be some retaliation if I do publish my research."

"But you're still going to go through with it," Sweets said. It was less of a question and more of a comment on what he felt he already knew about Cam.

"Yes I am," she said quietly. "I owe it to the soldiers, the people I interviewed, my family, my friends…but most of all to myself to not be afraid to stand behind my work."

Sweets nodded and felt a grin form on his face. It didn't really surprise him that she had made this decision, but it always felt comforting to him whenever she re-affirmed her dedication to her work and showed the strong, principled side of her personality.

The conversation then moved onto lighter topics like the latest happenings with Michelle and Cam's repeated attempts to catch up with Paul. Sweets mainly listened at that point, content to let her steer the conversation. Eventually they both finished their food and were sipping at cups of coffee. It was at that point that Sweets couldn't help but notice how the pathologist was studying him.

"Sweets, are you sure that everything is ok?" she asked. Sweets nearly spat the coffee in his mouth out and only narrowly escaped doing so by forcing himself to gulp it down.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Work is fine. My research is going well. I've already submitted reports to Quantico and am just doing some follow up work at this point. I might even expand my work into a project for publication at some point. Things are good."

"I know that things are good at work," Cam said. "You've mentioned that. But I…."

Cam sighed as she closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. She then re-opened them and did her best to smile at him again.

"I wanted to tell you that I'd like you to come to my place some evening for dinner while Paul is there," she said. "He mentioned that he would like to meet you, and I think Michelle might enjoy it somewhat as well."

"Thank you, but I you don't have to…."

"It's not a bother, Sweets," Cam interrupted. "The fact is…I miss you. And all of us. Together. And even though I am sure that your work is important, you have to eat sometime."

"Thank you, Doctor Saroyan," he murmured. "I will try to make it for dinner. I promise."

The two of them finished their coffees with Cam telling him about her new position and office as federal coroner. Apparently it was a far cry from the environment she had become accustomed to, but Sweets could sense that she was trying to make the best of it.

Citing work and the concern about battling DC traffic again, Cam left as soon as she finished her coffee and paid her bill. After she had left, Sweets looked down at his plate and began to plan the rest of his day at work.

It wasn't until after he had left a tip, paid his bill and started walking toward his car that the feelings that had been festering inside him during his meal with Cam made themselves known. Once he got to his car, he got in and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

'_It's a sham. All of this…just a sham,' _he told himself. '_The life I am living now, the work I am doing…it's not even my best work. It may be good enough for additional study by others, but it's nothing I am truly dedicated to. It's not like Cam, who is finding ways to help so many people and who is willing to risk it all to stand by her findings. My research is just busy-work so I can avoid facing the truth: that my professional life is now stagnant and meaningless.'_

Sweets gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could, his fingers trembling, in an effort to control himself.

'_I keep telling myself that everything is fine and that I'll move on, but so far that's been a farce too. I can function. I can get through the days. But that's just about all I can do. I can't pick up and start over…not like Cam or any of the others.'_

'_How long can I continue to go through the motions of pretending to live a life?'_

Sweets took a deep breath and turned on his car. He then moved his car into traffic and began the journey back to his office.

He wasn't going to answer that question today…but he knew that he would have to answer it soon.


End file.
